Drunken Abandon
by IceEckos12
Summary: England tries to get America drunk- and actually succeeds! To bad it wasn't everything he thought it would be... COMPLETED! Chapter 27, important announcement.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia! **

Those who knew America always wondered what he would be like drunk.

Not that they really wanted to figure it out themselves, but they just wanted to know. So, who better to ask then Canada, America's twin brother?

It was a problem just to find Canada. One had to look everywhere to find him, and even then you had to look through the odd translucency. And then, even if you did find him, even if you did look past the veil, you had to go past his overprotective, obnoxious brother.

Let's say you did find him. Let's say you did do the impossible. Anyway, you then would ask the polite, shy little Canadian, if you could "ask him a question". While doing that you would wonder why on earth you hadn't seen those beautiful violet eyes before, or why you hadn't looked past that obnoxious American and noticed the polite, shy figure stooping behind him. Anyway, Matthew would smile at you politely and say, "Yes, anything." He might stutter a bit, which you would consider absolutely adorable. Then, you would give him a flirty/pleasant/ rare smile, depending on your personality and say, "I was wondering what your brother acts like when he's drunk." Again, depending on your personality the question would be asked with varying levels of politeness. At this point, Matthew's smiled would become fixated on his face, and would seem infinitely tense, as though reliving some horrible memory. The thin frame would begin to tremble, and the gorgeous violet eyes would become dilated in terror. His visage would take on the appearance of someone trying not to scream or cry. Then, he would begin to sob, leaving you to comfort this poor, poor, country for god knows why, though it would seem as though he were reliving some horrible past event. You would quietly wonder what had traumatized him so, but would push the thought away to avoid breaking him anymore.

(If you haven't figured out whose POV this is, I'm shocked.)

Now, your prayers have been answered. It is time to see what Alfred is like when he's drunk.

England was on a mission.

America had gotten him drunk on several occasions, perhaps unintentionally, but still, it was all his fault! England was severely pissed right now, and he needed some amusement.

What better way than a drunken American?

"I shall not fail!" England cackled, somehow managing to push away the alcoholic beverage in front of him. No, he needed to be sober for this!

"You fail at everything, Iggy." England turned to face the snickering American, frowning maliciously, eyebrows scrunched in a furious caterpillar line. "You don't even know what I'm thinking of, dolt! I don't fail! I won't fail…" England cackled again, having to resist the strong urge to take a swig of the drink. "I don't even want to know." America said, turning and swishing his beer, and then chugging a bit.

England frowned, making sure to look convincing. "Don't drink that stuff, it's horrible! Here," England said, reluctantly pushing over the scotch. America eyed the drink suspiciously, before shrugging and picking up the glass. "You don't have taste buds, remember Iggy?" The blonde ignored England's indignant cry and threw the whole thing back in one gulp. Smacking his lips appreciatively, America signaled for another. "This stuff is pretty good."

After 15 more, only a light pink tint was brushing America's cheeks. He was only slightly wobbly, and his voice slurred just slightly. The glass gently swayed, as though touched by an invisible breeze. However, the effect was sobering, and somehow dark.

"That damn Commie, next time I see 'im I'm gonna bound his face into the dirt." Alfred growled darkly. Normally this sentence would sound absolutely ridiculous coming from the peppy American's mouth, but now it sounded dark, foreboding, and actually like a real threat. Then, something happened that really should've told England to stop, but his heart was set on complete drunkenness. Coming from America's voice was a feminine, not slurred and politely Russian-like voice that said, "But Papa, if you do that to other Papa I would be very sad!"

Another voice, with a city accent almost exploded out of his mouth. "I agree with pops. That damn Russian needs a clobbering!"

America continued to his conversations with himself, new voices sometimes entering the growing fold.

While England wasn't smart enough to quit with the alcohol, he did have enough mind to take the drunk American home, just in case he revealed just a little too much in his drunken state. So, he ordered several packages of strong alcoholic beverages to take home and took his leave with Alfred. Sharing a taxi with a drunken Alfred was a traumatizing and dangerous situation, one that England never wished to relive. Several death threats were made to various countries, him included. After that, Alfred began spewing several mathematical and scientifical calculations, all extremely confusing and complex. England wasn't even sure what some of them were even _about. What does he do in his bloody free time?_ England had to wonder.

When they got home, Alfred stumbled to the table, gently crushed the top of a new bottle of drink and began chugging it, somehow not spilling a single drop.

England was extremely confused. When he was drunk, England would become clumsy, tipsy, and very, very open. Looking back on those days, England would shudder about what he'd said to the countries. America often told him that he was amusing, brutally honest, and really ridiculous.

By no means was Alfred ridiculous or amusing whatsoever. In fact he seemed more closed, dark, and suddenly had a smart and almost sharp wit. Also, America seemed to have developed multiple personalities, and now they were arguing about the economy, and whether it was worth it to attack any country that pissed him off. When America talked with the voices, his voice was clear, calm, and completely controlled, not like the old drunk America or the usual America. This was something else entirely!

By now England was thinking America was drunk enough, and just as he was about to call to the idiot he heard a sickening, Schloop!

England whipped around, completely at a loss at what the noise was. When he saw what had happened, he felt his mouth drop.

There, standing next to a snoring America was a young, pale girl with whitish-blonde hair and striking violet eyes. She was wearing what appeared to be a long, smooth, blue scarf and a long tannish overcoat that reached just above the slender knees. Her hair was tied in a loose braid that fell down her back to her thighs, and a white ribbon tied the mass together.

To England, she looked remarkably like a younger, feminine version of Russia.

**Yeah… In case you're wondering (drop the pitchforks, please!) I decided the chapters were way too long. It was taking me forever to update, not to mention even longer to beta the chapters. Now I won't feel very obligated to write 6,000 word chapters each time, so… those of you who stuck with the story, thanks, and new people, well… you'll get to see a cleaner, better version than the last. Anyway, thanks a bunches for being so patient. Now I can update a lot more. Another reason I took down the story was that some things were a little funky, or they were historically inaccurate or something like that. Now I'm going to look at each chapter thoroughly before putting it up. I just split the chapters into halves and shot 'em up. **

**This is an America and his states story, and the first person was Alaska, if that wasn't obvious enough. I'll be putting up a lot more chapters today, so you can expect a very short wait. Keep reading, and enjoy!**

**With love, **

**IceEckos12**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thinking, thinking… yup, still don't own APH. **

_Where we left off, a strange girl had seemingly jumped out of Alfred…_

The girl was quietly staring at Alfred, flexing her fingers and considering the sleeping figure as one would consider a close friend or relative. Then, from God knows where, she whipped out a spigot and began whipping it around all fancy-like and stuff, coming within inches of the nice dishes. Letting out a grunt of satisfaction and letting the pipe fall in her hand, the girl finally realized someone was watching her.

When England blinked in surprise, the girl was standing in front of him, as though she hadn't moved, smiling as Russia would smile at a victim of his next torture.

"Can I help you?" She asked in smooth, light English. Her tone matched Russia's; polite yet somehow threatening. Everything about her screamed, _I'm going to kill you!_

All England could do was let out a high-pitched squeak!

Then, blinking as though surprised, the girl backed up slowly. Her forehead crinkled in confusion, pouting slightly. "Grandpa… Arthur?" She asked slowly, unsure.

Arthur blinked, before doing the usual and automatic response. "I'm not that old!" He shouted, before realizing he was in a room with a threatening and perhaps dangerous little girl. Instead of smiling viciously or something like that, her lips went downward, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. Then, without restraint, she began to sob.

"Papa was right! You are mean!" She wailed, burying her head in her blue scarf. The scarf quickly became covered in tears, and she shook almost uncontrollably. Arthur felt himself melting at the sight; she was so cute. Mentally slapping himself for making the girl cry, Arthur immediately walked over and put his arm around her. "Shh, shh, I'm sorry, it was automatic…"

The girl turned into his shoulder, quickly soaking the shirt. Arthur let the girl cry into his shirt for a while; patting her back and making the soothing noises he would usually make for Alfred when he cried. It took him back to the past, reminding him of when America had finally managed to get himself hit by one of the buffalo he'd flung around. Arthur remembered feeling shocked; he'd always considered the boy invincible since he so easily tossed those wild beasts around. Arthur had bandaged Alfred up and held him while he cried; in fact, she sounded almost exactly like Alfred…

England gently pulled the girl away from him, and faced her. "Now, I don't mean to be rude, but…" Checking to make sure the Russia-look-a-like understood, Arthur plunged on. "Who exactly are you?"

The girl immediately stood up, seeming to regain her cold, threatening air, though it was slightly ruined by the fading silver streaks of tears. "My name is Alaska, Grandfather."

England could only stare in shock. "Alaska…?" He whispered, stupefied.

Alaska giggled at his expression. "Yes, though sometimes the others call me Sarah. Other Papa calls me sunflower."

"And your 'other pops' is shit crazy!" The two turned to face the direction of the voice, England in confusion and Alaska in anger.

"Don't you dare insult other Papa!" Alaska shrieked, striding forward, allowing England to take the boy in.

The boy had ragged black hair that was hidden underneath a black hat decorated with a plaid band that stretched around it. The hat had city flair to it, not the usual beret. The boy had sharp green eyes that reminded England vaguely of someone, though he couldn't place who. The thick, bushy eyebrows however, England could place. They reminded him of Sealand's eyebrows. Then, grudgingly Arthur had to admit they also reminded him of his own eyebrows.

Anyway, the boy was wearing a leather jacket with a striped t-shirt underneath that was ratty and well used. His pants were standard black jeans, with sturdy black boots. He was your stereo-typical city kid (A/N: I honestly don't think every city kid wears leather jackets, black hats and bad clothes. That's why he's "stereo-typical").

There was a mighty klong! And the boy was on the floor, holding onto his head. Alaska, or Sarah, was standing over him with the spigot held tightly in one hand, shouting at him angrily in—was that Russian? Anyway, it didn't sound nice at all.

"Um… ah… why don't we stop fighting now… er, kids…"

It'd meant to come out commanding and slightly intimidating, but all England was capable of was timid squeaks. You're England, dammit! Get a hold of yourself!

So England pulled his gun from his pocket and shot between the two.

Well, that got their attention.

The boy, if he'd been standing up, would've leapt five feet in the air. Instead, he scrambled away from the noise and swore angrily. "God dammit gramps, don't do that!"

Alaska let out an involuntary squeak and backed away slowly, a cold, intense look on her face. She looked like she was being approached by a wild animal— unpredictable, unknown, and possibly dangerous.

There was another shloop!

The next person who popped out of America's sleeping figure ("How can he still be asleep?" England muttered angrily) was an extremely short girl.

The boy groaned, and Alaska smiled brightly, an action that transformed her entire face. "Rhode!" She said happily, and strode over.

Rhode Island (who else could that be?) looked like someone who was supposed to be sixteen, though was much shorter. She had sea gray eyes, and blonde hair done up in a long ponytail down her back. Though her eyes were like steel, Rhode Island had a smiling face, almost to the point of jolly. Her black tee showed a picture of a ship riding the crest of a giant wave, about to crash onto a rocky shore. Words read, Rhode Island! In bright, cheerful blue words. Plain blue jeans stopped over giant brown hiking boots.

"Alaska! Hey, sweetheart, how've you been?" Rhode's light, happy greeting also proved one thing: she was older than she looked.

Alaska hugged the girl, stooping low. "It goes well, though New York was making fun of other Papa."

Rhode looked around Alaska and spotted New York, who was slowly inching closer to Arthur. Rhode studied him for a minute, then smiled almost eerily and said, "Now, you didn't mean that, did you New York?"

New York smiled, though it was obviously fake. "Of… of course not, Rhode."

Rhode nodded, and went back to talking to Alaska.

Checking to make sure they weren't watching, New York slunk over behind England and watched the girls from there. Then, surprisingly, New York spoke up.

"They scare the shit outta me, gramps." New York mumbled fearfully. "I act tough around them, but I'm scared crazy. The girl states— Rhode, Alaska, Georgia, Lou, Illinois, see they've formed this group. The BABONA. It's shit scary, man. It stands for Bad Ass Bitches Of North America." New York said this quickly, glaring at them with watchful eyes.

"Get off me!" England hissed angrily. This entire time, he'd been just standing there, but after he'd fired the gun he'd woken up. These—these states, or whatever they claimed to be, were just popping out of America just like that?

"Explain things to me, dammit! Why they bloody hell are you here?" England snarled, brushing off the stares, finger tightening unconsciously on the trigger of his gun.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Rhode looked over at Alfred and said, "Why don't you talk to Penny? She'll tell you."

Indeed, when England looked over, there was another state standing next to Alfred, brushing off her skirt.

The girl, Pennsylvania, had warm, green eyes and light brown hair. Her face was motherly and pleasant, though she looked only sixteen. Pennsylvania was wearing an old fashioned colonial dress, her hair done up in sharp, almost strict bun. Her dress was plain, like those in on farms.

Pennsylvania looked up at them, surveying them with a curious, gentle look. Then, she bowed slightly to Arthur and greeted, "Hello Grandfather."

Arthur had to restrain himself from yelling at her about the age thing, and said awkwardly, "Hello, um… Pennsylvania."

Pennsylvania smiled graciously and turned to face the other states. "Rhode Island, New York, Alaska I see…I wonder who's next?"

Another odd _schloop!_ Sounded.

"Ah! Texas." Pennsylvania almost purred, walking over and brushing the nonexistent dust off his jacket.

Texas was extremely tall, almost 3 inches taller than Alaska. He looked a bit Mexican— Arthur guessed this was due to his origin— and wore your standard cowboy hat. Texas wore a soft, tan leather jacket with a white t-shirt underneath, and it looked worn and well used. He had a wide, thick brown belt that held up dusty blue jeans. Though he looked intimidating and somewhat scary, Texas had a kind and pleasant face, like a gentle giant.

"Penny." He said in a deep, pleasant southern voice. "Nice to see you."

Penny reached up and touched his face lightly, and said, "You're getting pudgy. No more BBQ buffets for you!"

Texas breathed in a deep breath, looking as though he was trying not to punch Pennsylvania. "Yes Penny."

Penny nodded her face the picture of innocence. "Good boy."

While Texas was turning a cherry red tomato color, obviously trying not to kill someone, some other states had come out. There were four of them, surprisingly. There were two pairs of twins, each dressed identically. The first two boys were plain, but hardy looking. They each had white t-shirts on with coal mine dust lightly coating a jean jacket. They both had dusty pants and thick, light hiking boots.

The other two boys had a wild look, like some animal that was let loose from the zoo. They had crazy brown hair with wild blue eyes and light skin. The two had dirty brown sweaters that were well used and black sweat pants. The boys were bare foot.

"Oh look, it's the pansy boys." New York drawled, earning a chorus of "Hey!" and surprisingly, "Grrr."

"Oh New York, just because they have girly names doesn't mean that they're pansy's." Penny crooned; fluffing the one of the brunette's already fluffed heads. "Right Dakota's? Carolina's?"

The Dakota's growled menacingly began looking around the room, like a caged wolf looking for an exit. The Carolina's began to fidget, lightly smoothing their already perfect hair.

Soon, more appeared. California was a typical California guy, with tanned skin and bright blue eyes. He had wind swept blonde hair, and a distinct smell of the sea. New York made a snarky comment about him "liking his happy powder a little too much". Penny slapped him and began talking to California about "therapy".

Washington was extremely depressing; he had a dark black raincloud that followed him everywhere, covering the Goth in pattering rain. He had wet black hair and a black sweater, paired with black jeans and black shoes.

Louisiana wore a Lolita, frilly, lacy black dress that reached just above the knees, adorned with pink bows and black and white stockings. Her black hair was done up in long, doll-like curls and a pink bow topped her head. Everything from her brown eyes to her Mary Jane's was extremely creepy, like some wacked up doll.

Illinois and Wisconsin came out as a pair; Wisconsin was a little pudgy, splattered with thick freckles and curly bleach blonde hair. His light blue eyes gave him a strong sense of innocence, and he was gnawing on a cheese stick.

Illinois had a strong look; she was short and stocky, wearing long, dirt stained jeans and plain white t-shirt. Her light brown hair was cropped short; so short that England mistakenly took her for a boy until her and Alaska embraced, letting Arthur know this was no boy.

Oregon was dressed like many Americans on the Oregon Trail, except he had thick, worn gray boots. He looked happy, almost overly cheerful compared to his dreary brother, whom he pestered incessantly.

They streamed out, surprising England with the numbers. However, one thing was the same about all of them. They all called him Grandpa, or gramps, or pops, or something like that, and it was seriously starting to piss England off. They all began to file throughout the house, though it wasn't meant to fit 50 people at once. When the last one came out, Hawaii (He was a little boy wearing nothing but a coconut bra, palm tree boxers and a grass skirt), England finally put his foot down.

"Alright, now explain to me what's going on!" England shrieked hysterically, feeling very pressured. And honestly, who could blame him? It's not every day 50 people just happen to pop out of your former colony!

No one wanted to seem to answer him. A few shuffled quietly, others looked away quickly. Finally, Penny smoothed the invisible wrinkles out of her skirt and cleared her throat carefully. Finally, as though choosing her words carefully, Penny said, "We are the 50 states plus."

England froze, feeling an ulcer coming on. "Plus?" He shrieked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, there's also D.C., Belle, and Louis."

Arthur felt the world spin, and suddenly, the floor was a lot closer than it had been before…

**So here's the second edited chapter, btw. The updates won't be so fast, but they'll be much faster than a while ago. I'll also be making this chapters a little cleaner, in case someone turns a disapproving eye on this story… so anyway, here's the second chapter, or the second half of the first chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone froze when England fainted.

"Well," Illinois said finally, shaking her nonexistent hair and grinning as Wisconsin. "That went well."

"Well?" Penny shrieked. "You all scared the hell out of him!"

Everyone hushed up, realizing this wasn't the same Penny. See, Penny was like a mother hen. Very protective of her chicks, though not at all afraid to scold them. Also, she was very temperamental. Everyone was afraid to get her angry, because she began screaming when she was mad.

Anyway, Kansas, a short, soft-spoken brunette stepped forward. "Calm down Penny. Shouting's not going to do anything." Everyone nodded quietly in agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Penny was about to speak when Michigan shouted, "I have an idea! Let's call Uncle Matt!"

Everyone shouted their approval. They all absolutely loved Matthew, even though he was traumatically afraid of them. He was somehow able to work with the kids so well; kind enough to comfort the kids and not blame them when bad things happened, but strong enough to break up a fight when needed. In short, the perfect Uncle.

After New York frisked Arthur for his cellphone, there was a brief argument between Illinois and New York as to who would call Matthew. It was settled when Alaska reached over the both of them and picked up the cellphone, smiling threateningly about arguing. Then, she gave the phone to Hawaii, which no one argued with. Hawaii was undoubtedly the cutest of the 50. Everyone knew it.

Canada was enjoying a very nice dinner of chicken in a maple syrup marinade when his cell phone rang.

He checked the ID and sighed. No way was Arthur calling him; it was probably America because his phone charge had gone dead. So he sighed again and flipped the phone up.

"Hello, Matthew Williams's phone." Matthew silently congratulated himself for not stuttering. Then, his face paled when he heard who was on.

"Hi Uncle Matt! It's me! Hawaii!"

Matthew nearly dropped the phone, fumbling with it for a second before squeaking out, "H-H-Hawaii?"

"Are you okay Uncle Matt?"

"P-p-perfectly f-fine, thanks."

"Okay… you don't sound fine. Ah well! Anyway, Grandpa England got Papa drunk, and he's passed out on the floor right now so…"

Matthew gulped. "Yes, I c-c-c-c-can come. Wait… wh-why is he passed out on the f-floor?"

Hawaii giggled happily. "Penny said one sentence about Belle, Louis and D.C. and he totally blacked! New York had to frisk Arthur for the phone, 'cause no one's willing to touch D.C. for Pa's."

Matthew nodded, licking his licks. "Alright, I'll take the jet. Be there in… well…"

Hawaii laughed. "Take your time, but have your minor breakdown before you come, 'K? Bye Uncle Matt!"

Matthew quietly closed the phone, licking his lips. Ignoring Kumajiro's questions, he went to go have his minor breakdown before heading to England.

England slowly felt himself coming too. If it weren't for the sharp aching in his head and the loud voices filling his ears, he would've hoped it was all a dream. However, it most certainly wasn't a dream. So he reluctantly opened his eyes.

His green eyes were immediately met with two cow brown eyes.

He let out a very girlish squeak before scrambling away, trying to get away from the surprising person. He heard a giggle, and the room came into focus.

Hawaii was sitting on him, smiling at him happily and bouncing on his chest. Hawaii's tanned skin glowed slightly, and his curls seemed to bounce with happiness. "He's awake!" The boy trilled pleasantly. "Grandpa's awake!"

Everyone gathered around, and Arthur groaned. "What happened?"

"Well, I think that this was a little too much for you to handle… I was telling you about the states and stuff. Do you still want to hear it or are you going to pass out again?" That was Penny, giving him a worried, overly motherly look. He wasn't sure he was touched or annoyed. To hide his confusion, he nodded and said, "Yes, but…"

"Don't worry, I'll tell you if there's going to be a big surprise." Pennsylvania smiled understandingly, and Arthur felt a wave of respect for her.

"You know how you made colonies here?"

England nodded.

"Well, when the colonies formed into actual— well, sort of like states? There was Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania…" Penny gave a respective nod in their direction. "Well, when they formed, we formed. You might remember seeing us in America when you visited— Papa hid us from you because… well, even at that age he was rebellious. Wanted to keep something from you. Anyway, so we went about our business, taking care of our colonies, etc. etc. When we won the revolutionary war against you—"

New York interrupted her. "I know this may seem crazy, but we were fighting the war against you. Even the girls, though they hid their gender from the rest of the army to avoid complications." He grinned maliciously. "See Gramps? We helped win our war!" Everyone knew that New York wasn't very fond of England and wanted to one-up him.

Pennsylvania bonked New York on the head before continuing. "After we won, Uncle Matt and Papa went drinking to go celebrate his secession. We went with him, of course. We all got very, very drunk, and… the next morning, we found ourselves inside Papa. Sure, we could communicate in his head, but we weren't part of the outside world anymore. The new states got to stay out a day before coming inside again, but they always did eventually. Alaska managed to stay out for a week if I recall correctly… and the Dakota's managed to stay away for a year before coming inside… they ran away, but they always get inside eventually."

The room was quiet for a moment while England tried to process this. He considered it, and it sounded truthful. "Wait, what about Belle, Louis and D.C.?"

Pennsylvania touched her arm slightly and grimaced. "Well… the slavery thing. It broke Papa in half. The North was Louis, and the South was Belle. The states all broke out too, and were forced to pick sides. The America you saw in the world meetings those times? That was D.C. He has the ability to become older and change into Papa's figure if he wants to. He played the part well, too, though it wasn't much of a stretch because he already was tired and beaten. While America fought amongst itself, we managed to keep a straight face for the outside world… it was a horrible battle. Brothers and sisters pitted against each other, forced to deal with a problem no one wanted to face…" Pennsylvania took in a shaky breath, and the other states closed in around her, trying to comfort her. Rhode Island rubbed her back soothingly, while the rest of them said words of encouragement or gentle gestures. England was surprised by this display; he'd never thought of them as actual family, just a bunch of kids put in one body. But now… they looked like a family. Sure, they all looked different but… they all had something in common, something not physical, something he couldn't explain…

Wait; there was something physically similar about them all. They all had that ridiculous cowlick of America's. On all of them, the girls, boys, all of them had a funny cowlick. Arthur would've laughed if this hadn't been such peaceful moment.

"It was a horrible war." A lithe, smooth, Southern voice said from near Alfred. "But a necessary one. We all knew slavery would have to be dealt with eventually. It was all a matter of time."

They all turned, England with confusion and the rest of the states with varying levels of anger.

"Why don't—didn't you just give up, dammit Belle! You knew we were going to win, that kind of inhumanity isn't going to last forever!" New York shouted, turning red in the face. This was obviously some kind of ongoing argument, because Belle sniffed indignantly and said, "Be quiet, you Northern mongrel!"

Belle, England though embarrassed, was very pretty. She had long, wavy black hair that shone, just like in a hair product commercial. Her deep, chocolate brown eyes seemed to read you while still looking kind of sexy. Her plaid button up shirt went into a deep V, reaching the top of her, um, generous chest. She wore skinny jeans that showed off her nice legs very well. Her deeply tanned skin looked well cared for and unmarred, and on top of her head was a big, old-style cowboy hat with a big pink bow around the top. England blushed and had to turn himself away before the others saw his nosebleed.

"Don't you call my states mongrels, you Southern whore!" A low, commanding voice called over the crowd. Everyone's heads whipped around to face the new man.

This one was obviously Louis, if the way he had talked to Belle wasn't reason enough. He had light brown, curly hair and a short brown mustache which he twirled almost annoyingly. He had one blue eye and one brown eye, to Arthur's surprise, that commanded attention. Arthur felt that if there was a war between these two, he'd want to be on Louis's side. Anyway, Louis was wearing a typical northern soldier uniform, including that really weird hat and the shiny boots.

Belle whipped around furiously, eyes glittering with anger. "You'll regret that, Northern bastard!"

"Southern bitch!"

"Northern pansy!"

"Wench!"

"Jackass!"

"Shithead!"

It was quickly becoming a childish and purposeless fight, while the other states looked away bored.

This was most certainly an ongoing argument.

"Why don't you fight me, hoe?" Louis shrieked, face beat red.

"I don't fight girls." Belle hissed, equally furious.

"Oh, it's on now!"

The two lunged at each other, but then found their paths diverted when two large hands picked them up by the scruff's of their necks and left them running erratically in midair, trying to reach each other. It was actually pretty funny.

"Dammit Texas, let us down!"

Texas smiled eerily. "If you don't stop fighting, I will tie you to the chairs again."

They went limp, though were still glaring at each other with unconcealed hatred. Texas gently, carefully put them down, and they immediately began heading in different directions, obviously wise enough to know that they would fight if they were in the same room with each other.

Then, a mild, casual voice spoke up from behind them. "Hey guys!"

The states turned, surprised, and then looked away quickly.

"Nobody? 'Kay, can I become a state?"

"No." Everyone answered deadpan. It was simultaneous. This also seemed like an ongoing thing.

D.C., a seven year old looking boy, snapped his fingers almost comically and said, "Oh, darn! Maybe next year."

D.C. looked exactly like Alfred had when he was little, with his bright blue eyes and crazy blonde hair. He had a slightly chubby face as he had still not lost all of his baby fat, and was wearing jeans and a Superman t-shirt.

Then, there was an odd popping noise and D.C. became America.

England yelped, throwing himself back. Pointing accusingly he said—or rather stuttered, "A-A-America?"

America—or D.C.—or whoever frowned, and banged his head against the table. "Whenever someone looks at me, the first thing they say is America! Why not D.C.! I might be D.C. in disguise! I hate you all…"

"Maybe next year." Wisconsin said sympathetically, walking over and nearly patting the boy's arm. Then, as though remembering something important he jerked back and danced away.

"Sorry." He muttered, trying not to look at the America look-alike.

England was curious. There was obviously something deeper about the boy, and not just the ability to change his appearance. England should know about that sort of thing; America was probably the only one (besides Russia, but he doesn't… oh, you know what I mean!) who still knew about his magic obsession (I don't care if the others know in the series, in this story they don't. Or at least, he thinks they don't know.).

So England walked slowly over to D.C., wading through the states as they began to chatter quietly. He sat down next to the moping figure, who had become what America looked like when he was fifteen. D.C. had on a deep, brooding frown, and he looked… beaten. Weary. Things like that.

"So…" England began, trying to choose his words carefully.

"No, I know what you want."

Arthur looked up quickly. "Oh."

"You see, the reason Wiss wouldn't touch me is because if he does, he'll go back inside. You know, um… disappear. Inside America."

Arthur nodded. It made sense, what he said. Obviously the states wouldn't want to go back inside, they barely got out. England had seen how hard it was to get America drunk. Then, he remembered something very disturbing.

"What did Pennsylvania mean by them being able to communicate in his head?"

D.C. actually laughed, a pure laugh that sounded just like America's. "Every day, all day, Papa goes around with voices in the back of his head. We can talk to him if we try, which isn't very hard. So, you know, we talk to him all the time. Ask him about his day, how's the weather, comment on things, that sort of stuff. Whatever we can do now, Papa can do too. Like Lou? She's magical. So Papa can see magical stuff too! He just ignores it. And Texas? He eats so frickin' much, and that means Papa eats a lot too."

England was staring at D.C., trying to process what he was saying.

"And of course, besides Tex's big appetite, everyone else has to eat too, so Papa eats a lot in the day to compensate. He considers us his kids, I know it. Whenever the new states comes, he'll spoil them for the while they have out."

Arthur felt like fainting again. That was why America ate so much? America sees magic? WTF? And that deal with the voices in the back of the head… England couldn't help remembering how spacey America was. Sometimes he would start laughing for no reason, or would be in the middle of a presentation and start spacing out and then laughing. Or he would space out and have an angry, or maybe a panicked look on his face for a second. Once, Arthur had caught Alfred shrieking at thin air, beet red. England had assumed it was just America venting— after all, Russia and him had had an argument. He must've been talking to his states.

Then, the room froze when the doorbell rang.

"Get it Grandpa, it might be France!" One of them whispered, and the rest of the group shivered.

England walked slowly to the door, ignoring the shouts of "Hide!" in the back room. There was a figure in the window, he couldn't tell who. Arthur put a reassuring hand on his gun. If it was a burglar or something, they would regret ever knocking. On. His. Bloody. House.

England didn't know who it was, even when he opened the door. The figure looked like America—but no, America was in his house.

The person had curly blonde hair, with a long piece of hair curly-cuing up, which was kind of odd. This man had big violet eyes, though they were soft and shy. His lips were pulled up in a slight, meek smile, and he had pale, almost sickly skin. He was wearing a red sweater with a big white maple leaf on it, and long blue jeans.

"Um… hello England." The man said respectfully, nodding his head a bit.

"Who are you?" Arthur asked, more confused than suspicious now. This guy looked like he couldn't hurt a butterfly!

"Um… it's Canada, or Matthew."

England tried to remember, clicking his fingers unhappily. "I've heard that name before…" He murmured.

Then, there was shouting in the back room. A large ruckus sounded, then died. Then 50 pairs of feet began tramping through the hall, pounding it. A large shout accompanied this:

"UNCLE MATTHEW!"

**Next one… updating quickly ^^. This is the third part of the first chapter, so next is the 1****st**** part of the second chapter. Just two more chapters and an omake is left! **


	4. Chapter 4

**These are basically just some character profiles, so… I'm not really sure…well, I don't own APH, but I do own the states! Mine! All MINE!**

Name: Alaska (or sometimes called Sarah)

Age (unofficially): around 11 or twelve, but she looks way older than she actually it because of her size.

Entered the U.S.: Officially claimed a state on January 3, 1959.

Attitude: Alaska is almost exactly like Russia. She's very polite, and has a very slight, almost unnoticeable Russian accent. She's very kind to her friends (mostly Illinois, Oregon and the rest of the BABONA), and though she doesn't know it, she scares the heck out of everyone else. She has a sweet, sad side too that when alone with one person is easily provoked.

Attire: Everything Alaska wears she gets from Russia. She has on a long brown trench coat just like Russia's with a light, blue scarf (Both presents from Russia). Underneath this she wears a short black skirt with a small black top reading "Ice, Ice, Baby" and white shirt extending from the top of where the black shirt ends to where the skirt begins (Presents from Belarus and Ukraine. As soon as they heard Russia had a "pity project", or so Belarus calls it to avoid calling Alaska his "daughter", they immediately began to spoil her. So did Russia, too.).

Appearance: Alaska has a pale, icy complexion. She has white hair, like Russia's, except it's grown out long and is done up in a loose braid reaching past her knees. She also has the telltale violet eyes, except they're more blue than purple. Alaska also has a white cowlick, as expected. She absolutely hates it, because it won't grow out. If you know Alaska well enough, you'll know she undo's her hair from its braid and wraps it around her when it's too cold.

Description: Alaska is probably one of the most unpredictable states. She can be sweet and intimidating, scary and intimidating, or sobbing and absolutely adorable. That's why you don't want to have Alaska as your enemy; the enemy won't understand what the hell she's doing. Anyway, Alaska has always had a very strong connection to Canada, because of their closeness.

When Alaska first came to be, when Russia decided to come over personally to hand over the territory, he met Alaska, the girl look-a-like. At first feeling very threatened, Russia went to stand in front of America, only to find him gently hugging the girl, saying things like "welcome" and such. Russia got impatient and demanded an explanation. Alfred had no choice but to tell him about the states and Russia said he would keep the secret if Alfred swore that every other time he got drunk she would come over to his place. Then Russia whisked Alaska away to his place for the weekend spoiled her, taught her Russian, and brought her back home.

Additional Information: Alaska's always been close to Oregon and Illinois. They don't seem scared of her or Russia, unless they put out a really, really intimidating air. Alaska was attracted to Oregon's endless, happiness and Illinois's hard working self. She's also part of the BABONA. Most look down on her as a little sister on steroids, but Illinois and Oregon don't care about how tall she is or if she's really, really scary. And unlike Russia, Alaska knows she's scary, and uses this to its full potential.

Name: New York

Age: Roughly seventeen

Entered the U.S.: Beginning of America

Attitude: New York is your good old city kid. He's rough, got street fighting skills, and isn't afraid to mouth off to anyone. Hell, he'd mouth off to the Queen of England. Actually, he'd probably want to do that… Anyway, behind all that tough exterior is a big… really soft marshmallow. He acts tough, but is just terrified on the inside. Anyway, New York has always been the awesome older brother. The little kids look up to him for being so tough, tough enough to stand up to Alaska! If only they knew…

Attire: You know New York's in the room if you hear loud noises and see his signature hat. He always wears that hat, no matter what. He'd die for that thing. The hat is a street style black beret, with a long plaid band going around the middle. New York also wears a leather jacket that's been with him through thick and thin. He had that thing before leather jackets were in. He wears a white t-shirt with wide red bands going horizontally across the shirt. He wears blue jeans, but they're so dark they look black. He also has sturdy black boots. They're all worn, as he probably hasn't changed his clothing for a very, very long time.

Appearance: I'll mention this now: the colonial states all bear some resemblance to England: Penny with her green eyes, Rhode has blonde hair, etc. Anyway, New York has dark black hair that's windswept and wild. His black cowlick sticks out the edge. He has bright green eyes, and some of the states swear they glow in the dark. He can see in the night like a cat, too. He calls it a "New York" thing. New York has a light complexion, which is very, very slightly tanned. One of the most embarrassing things that ever happened to New York was when he went to Florida and neglected to put on sunscreen. Instead of New York calling British soldiers lobster back, all the states were calling him that.

Description: New York has "street skills". He knows street fighting, has that ridiculous city accent, and knows how to cross a busy street. New York is more at home in the city than in his own house. Almost everyone in New York City knows New York; either a friend to drug dealers, an escort to the rich, or an informant for a spy. No one knows the city like New York.

However, there is one thing that New York tries to forget, but probably never will. Whenever New York is drunk, he turns into Broadway!New York, meaning a lightning fast change of clothes and him singing Broadway show tunes.

Additional Information: New York was actually in some Broadway musicals. He doesn't look like much, but he's one of the best actors of all time, so say the critics. Much to everyone's paranoia, some of the city people joke that New York ages with the city.

Name: Rhode Island

Age (unofficially): eighteen

Entered the U.S.: Beginning of U.S.

Attitude: Even though Rhode Island is really short, she still considers herself the older sister to the younger nations. She's kind, hardy, and expects everyone to listen to her. Her slight temper gets her in trouble a lot, because the younger states honestly don't want to listen to someone a centimeter smaller than Hawaii. That's just degrading. Most of the younger nations actually do consider her the "older sister" figure, though half won't admit it and the other half will admit it but won't listen to her anyway.

Attire: One thing about Rhode Island; her feet are too big for her body. She has to wear these hiking boots that look way too big for her, but they barely fit her feet anyway. She'll never admit she has to big feet, never. Besides that, she's fairly normal. Rhode always wears blue jeans and a custom made t-shirt. It's black and has a picture of a ship riding the crest of a giant wave, about to crash into a rocky shore. Rhode Island designed the t-shirt, though someone else will probably come up with something similar.

Appearance: Rhode Island probably looks the most like England. She's like a girl England—a short one mind you, but still a girl England. She's got blonde hair, the exact same shade and texture, though the only difference is the cowlick. She's got thick, fuzzy eyebrows and green eyes, though they look more gray than green. She's got a light complexion, not to the point of Alaska-pale, but still light. She's short. That's all I have to say.

Description: Rhode Island is a kid of the sea. Though they almost never visit it, whenever they do Rhode Island becomes a shark in the water, managing to even uplift Texas. That's why they never go anymore. Rhode was a small child, so small that the other early states though that she wasn't one of them, just some kid playing a prank. Alas, when she didn't age, they had to admit she was Rhode Island. She only got slightly bigger over the years, and was teased incessantly for her size. Who could blame them though? Honestly, when your older sister is a few feet shorter than you are, it's the least you can do.

Additional information: Rhode is part of two groups: The BABONA and the AOTS. The BABONA you already know, obviously, and the AOTS is actually the "Allegiance of the Shorty's". Others who belong in this group are the small states in the New England colonies such as New Jersey, Maryland and New Hampshire.

Name: Pennsylvania

Age (unofficially): 17

Entered the U.S.: Beginning of the U.S.

Attitude: Pennsylvania has always considered herself the older sister, or even the mother to the rest of the states. Her motherly attitude and smooth manners makes most of the other states consider her the mother as well; even in all the bad aspects. The henpecking, the badgering, and even the general nosiness is all part of who Penny is. She always thinks she can solve others' problems, and often loads her shoulders with more than she can handle. In times of trouble, the states look to Penny for help, especially in times like the civil war. The states didn't want to betray each other, but they had to fight for what they believed in, even though some of the Southern states didn't actually believe in slavery. Most if not all went to Penny.

Attire: Though all agree that Penny is very pretty, they also agree that she dresses un-pretty like in her old fashioned dresses and itchy boots. She wears what most married women wore in the colonial times, though in battle she takes on almost a Spanish appearance, with a short laced vest, loose cloth shirt and long black loose pants. She has a tan, lightly patterned dress usually accompanied by a loose apron.

Appearance: Pennsylvania has always looked been sharp and clean, what with her strict bun and piercing green eyes. She has the signature cowlick, though she disapproves of it. Many find they cannot lie to Penny, as the eyes will x-ray their souls and even their very consciences. She has thicker than normal eyebrows, making every emotion overly dramatic. Her pale complexion makes her very pretty, though almost none will admit it.

Description: In the wars, the girls refused not to fight. In fact, in most wars they did the most damage and often ended in the front lines or on dangerous spy missions. The three girls, Georgia, Pennsylvania and Rhode Island were the most valued soldiers in the revolutionary war, and the western girl states did their fair share in the civil war. Pennsylvania was one of the best spies, as no one would suspect the kind, motherly young married woman. Of course, they didn't think that when Penny nearly annihilated them, but that's in the past now.

Other than that, Penny has tried for several years to break several bad habits of the states, such as: California's often intake of pot, Wisconsin's unhealthy consummation of cheese, and the Dakota's… introverted nature, though she doesn't do a very good job of it, often suggesting therapy, "happy" groups and other commercialized help. She doesn't quite understand that this is the demeanor of the states.

Other information: When she was offered, Pennsylvania viciously turned down the offer to join the BABONA and even admonished them for swearing, even though that every bad word they've learned they learned from her. Though she tried for years to shut the rebellious group down, she failed. Miserably.

Name: Texas

Age (unofficially): 14

Entered the U.S.: December 29, 1845

Attitude: Though Texas is almost over 6 feet tall and can easily best Alaska in arm wrestling (which she absolutely hates) he is what most would call the "gentle giant". He's actually very sweet and has a discrete love of small, furry animals. Texas is also mysterious; he doesn't say much when he talks unless there's something to talk about, and doesn't let much on either. Most people consider him their silent bodyguard, which is actually true. If someone who looks threatening goes near any of the states, no matter how much he hates them, he and Alaska (though they despise each other, they form a bodyguard tag-team of a sorts) will be all over them, pinning them down and threatening them with promises of death unless they explain themselves. You can imagine how he would be when dealing with one of the girls boyfriends…

Attire: Texas, like New York, will always, always wear his signature hat. It's a typical cowboy hat, but it's got a band wrapped around it that has Mexican designs on it (more explanation on that later). He has a soft tan leather jacket that he's used since the Spanish found him. Also he's got on a white t-shirt that he's used for almost as long as the jacket and long blue jeans that are held up by a thick brown belt. He's got spangled cow-boy boots which he absolutely hates, but he can't take them off because they were a gift from Oklahoma.

Appearance: Texas has a round, gentle face that you imagine looks intimidates when you first see it, but really it isn't. He has bright blue eyes and a dark complexion that makes him look a bit Mexican— but I'll explain that later. He has very short hair, which is a dusty brown and has the signature cowlick.

Description: Most of the states were found on Alfred's doorstep, except a few. Texas was one of them. Alfred and Maria "Mexico" had a little one night stand, and well… she got knocked up. They had a little argument over who would keep the child, and in the end America won. Maria still comes and sees her "little boy" when she can, which display some complications in the story.

Anyway, Texas has always been teased about his "biological birth", though it's because most of the other states are actually jealous. They don't want to be someone's pity baby, or they're father's orphan child. They want to be his real child!

Texas is an excellent rancher, and always places first place in rodeos. He has an unusual connection with the animals, giving him a sure win.

Other information: He's closest to Oklahoma, even though he's a foot taller than him. He can't say no to the smaller state, no matter how hard he tries. If Oklahoma wants him to do something, he'll do it.

Name(s): Dakota's

Age (unofficially): 14

Entered the U.S.: November 2nd, 1889

Attitude: The Dakota's are like wolves: wild, unpredictable, and absolutely loyal. No one really knows how they feel, or what they're planning next, but they know it's probably something violent and will most likely nearly get them killed. The Dakota's, however, are fiercely loyal to they're "pack" brothers and sisters. They consider America the Alpha as well as their father, so anyone who even insults America will be immediately destroyed. Literally. They consider Hawaii the Omega, as the youngest and second shortest. No one's seen them behave like a real human being, but they have to hope. Other than that, the Dakota's are the most anti-social human beings you've ever met.

Attire: When the Dakota's are out doing they're wild thing, they only wear a pair of shorts, displaying their hard wiry muscles and lean body. Even though they may be wild, they're not indecent, which the other states proclaim as "the only humanish thing about them!" When they're in civilization, they wear plain brown sweatshirts, usually with the hood drawn down low and long black sweatpants. They absolutely refuse to wear shoes. They consider them abominations.

Appearance: They're face and hair describe them perfectly: wild and animalistic. They have brown hair, usually adorned with twigs and stray leaves (though god knows where they get the props) that is most certainly impossible to handle. Even if they wanted to keep it down—which they don't—it wouldn't. Though it isn't noticeable, they do have America's cowlick. They're wild blue eyes though remind everyone of a wilder and fiercer America, leaving most bystanders unsure whether they're normal or… something less than normal. They have light skin and wiry muscles from days without sunlight in the woods, running around. They're always barefoot, so they have callused rock hard soles.

Description: When they were first made, the Dakota's ran. They ignored civilization and made a sanctuary in the Black Hills. For a year they managed to camp out, ignoring the sensation to go to America and come inside of him. Then when a ranger found them, they had no choice but to leave. America paid the man a lot to keep him from telling the police and the press, which earned the Dakota's respect. He managed to convince them to stay with him, and they eventually go inside. There they met the rest of the states, and through tight spaces and enclosed corners they formed a sense of comradeship with the others. They ones who managed to crack the Dakota's were Pennsylvania and Montana.

Other information: The Dakota's are closest with Montana and Penny, though they do get along well with most of the Northern states fine. They especially hate the Carolina's, for some reason the other states are at a loss to.

Name: Carolina's

Age (unofficially): 15

Entered the U.S.: Beginning of U.S.

Attire: They both are very plain; almost to the point of boring. They both have on jean jackets, which is covered with light coal mine dust, though the two always desperately try a dust it off. They have almost pure white t-shirts, though little molecules of dust have managed to sneak they're way under the tight protection. The Carolina's wear loose blue jeans which they resignedly let be covered in dust.

Appearance: They have sky blue eyes and light blonde hair, which gives them a light appearance, though the "lightness" ends there. They have square, strong faces, no unlike Ludwig's. They've got light skin, though they've always wanted tans. They're strong, built like hard workers. They've always got a hard look on their faces, like someone spit in their cleansed, untouched water.

Description: The Carolina's are neat freaks: they hate getting dirt, grease, anything on their perfect clothes or hair. In fact, they've gone so far as to have a phobia of dirt, despite their often descents into the mines. They're often ridiculed and plagued with taunts and practical jokes because of this, and they often act like little pricks. It's not hard to guess why, because honestly, if every day you're picked on about your girly name and cleaning habits. They're also sticklers for schedules, organizers and the like. Many have compared the two to Ludwig.

Other information: The Carolinas have always looked out for themselves, and have never, ever gone to Penny with their troubles. In all honesty, they barely have any friends at all. In fact, they have no friends or close relations at all.

**I'll post the second part of the second chapter after this. Anyway, I'm so happy! I've gotten so many reviews, and a lot of people are favoriting and subscribing and stuff, so I is happy! Arigatao! Grazie! Merci! Danke! Спасибо!** **Hvala! Thank you! **

**IceEckos12 **


	5. Chapter 5

**I was actually planning on making you all wait till tomorrow to give you the rest of the halved chapters, but I was so happy with all the review and stuff that I couldn't help myself. Don't own APH, but the states are mine!**

"Uncle!"

Matthew squeaked and tried to get away from the kids stampeding through the hall. He took a few steps backward, and ended up on the edge of the top stair. His arms pin wheeled backwards as he tried to balance. He wobbled slightly and was about to fall when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and steadied him. Matthew released the breath he'd been holding, gasping quietly. Texas smiled pleasantly at him from the center of the crowd and pulled Canada back as the other states cheered. "Uncle Matthew!" They cheered. "Uncle Matthew!"

England finally came to his senses and approached the familiar man. He brushed himself off quickly and said, "Sorry about that, these…" Arthur realized with a jolt who this was. "You're Canada!" He yelped.

Canada nodded meekly.

"You're America's brother!"

Canada paused, looking almost hesitant before nodding again.

"Oh, I am so sorry! I didn't recognize you." England said bemusedly, wondering how he could not recognize this America look-alike. He'd always told himself that he'd never forget anyone close, let alone related to America. And now he was forgetting the idiot's twin— what kind of a fool was he?

Canada smiled weakly before he was engulfed in the circle of states, all clamoring for his attention. They tugged at his clothes, bragging and complaining and all looking for his approval, his shock, him. They loved Uncle Matt, absolutely loved him. Not joking— he'd always been there for them, from the first moment to the last. Like their father, they were fiercely protective of him, and mourned whenever he was gone. Every time he accomplished something, they made America tell him every one of their compliments, praises, everything— which led to long and complicated conversations, but the states thought they were worth it. As long as Matthew knew they cared.

And that was how he found himself being led inside— surrounded by loving nieces and nephews and for some reason carrying Hawaii. God knows how he had gotten up there. No one had seen him do it, and no one really cared. As long as their beloved Uncle was here, and paying attention to them.

Now do you see why Matthew was so scared of them?

England followed the group, silenced in shock. The states had converged on Matthew like vultures; he couldn't even see the shy nation under the mass of children. Every once in a while he got the barest glance of a shaking figure and panicky, terrified violet eyes, but that was the most he could make out.

"He forgot me." England jumped, startled, and turned to face whatever had made that noise. If he had been shocked then, he found himself even more surprised by the appearance of a—of a— was that a polar bear?

The bear turned to face him. Yes, it was a bear, and it stared at him with sullen, beady black eyes. His fur was pure white, like freshly fallen snow, and it was thick and fluffy. England couldn't help wondering how it felt to pick the animal up, so soft and cuddly… No! England shrieked to himself. You are England! A superpower! I… you… don't like cute cuddly things!

The bear then said something that made England forget that he was currently scolding himself for liking cute, cuddly things.

"Take me inside. He forgot about me." The bear raised his arms up in the signature "carry me" position, and it reminded England so much of his baby America… he couldn't help it. He lifted the bear up, and instinctively held it against his chest, face forward, arms crossing over its belly.

The bear got comfortable, snuggling closer to his chest, and England blushed. I don't like cute things I don't like cute things I don't like cute things… England smiled gently when the bear yawned softly. But he's so cute!

"Oh!" England heard a soft cry, and turned to face the source. It was a younger state, with warm, blue eyes and darkly tanned skin. His eyes flickered from the bear to England's blushing face, noticing that his grandfather was obviously embarrassed to have been caught cuddling the cute thing.

"Don't worry. Won't tell no one." His voice was soft, delicate; he was choosing to enunciate each word even before saying it. He was obviously one of the smarter ones, and one of the shyer ones. He'd seen him talking to a dark skinned boy with similar blue eyes; perhaps a twin? No, not quite.

The state must have recognized England's confusion, because he smiled hesitantly and said. "M'name's Arizona."

England nearly jumped; he sounded a lot like Sweden! He chalked it off to being shy and having not used his voice much, but even the thought of the intimidating older nation made him shiver.

"Uncle Matt'll remember the bear 'ventually." Arizona said smoothly, carefully wording his phrases. "Keep 'im while you can."

England nodded to the small, creepy child, trying not to start edging away. He was seriously freaked out. It's not every day one meets an extremely freaky child who just so happens to remind you of an intimidating older man, especially two supernatural people. Those two would either kill each other or be the best of friends.

"New Mexico!" Arizona said suddenly, eyes lighting up happily at the sight of his dark skinned friend. He rushed off, leaving a slightly relieved England behind. That child— he was scary…

Shaking his head unhappily, England rubbed his feet on the mat (mostly out of habit) and began trudging into the antechamber. What he found there was a two man war.

Well, not exactly.

Obviously some argument had occurred, and none of the other states wanted to take part in it. There was a table knocked over in the corner, and magazines were scattered on the floor. He followed the trail of carnage, trying to find words to describe it. A nice vase was shattered, a framed picture had fallen off the wall… his eyes stopped on the wrestling pair; they were pulling each other's hair, biting at each other, kicking and scratching… and the antique vase… England managed to reach it before it touched the ground, but he was still steaming mad. These awful children…

Belle and Louis rolled around on the ground, screaming harsh but childish curses and landing weak blows on each other. It was a bit like a catfight— he would have laughed if they weren't bent on destroying his home in the process.

Finally, they rolled onto his feet. At first, it didn't register, but then Louis looked up at England in surprise. An angry curse died in his throat as he saw who it was.

Belle slammed her fist into the side of his head before realizing her counterpart was staring up in horror at something. She looked over at him, and saw… two thick denim stalks rising from behind his back. She followed them up, to the tip of the blue dress shirt, to the bottom of the pale collar, to the pair of angry, green eyes.

She did the first thing she could think of.

"He started it!" she whined pointing one manicured finger at her petrified brother. He snapped out of his trance to retaliate, before he realized he was getting picked up off the ground. The two former nations looked guiltily at England, flinching under his venomous and disturbingly angry gaze.

"Um… sorry." Louis was the first to speak, going for the diplomatic approach.

England's eyes burned with violent rage. "Sorry?" He asked in a hushed voice, which seemed even worse than him yelling. "Sorry? Is that all you can say to me? I suppose it is, because of your miniscule, puny vocabularies."

Louis cleared his throat and said in a small, remorseful voice. "I apologize profusely for what we've done. I'm sure Papa will pay for the damage…"

"Don't you dare give me that!" England screamed, looking positively murderous. "I so very kindly let you into my house, without so much as a bloody complaint, but I don't recall you telling me you planned to destroy it!"

By now, the other states had gathered outside the door, looking unsure and confused. Pennsylvania stepped forward, looking at him as one would look at a wild animal.

"Um… Grandfather?" Ignoring the furious scream of "don't call me that!" she plunged on. "Yes, well… we can pay for whatever damage done. Um… I can find a suitable punishment for them, and of course it was our fault as well…" Ignoring the furious yells of "No it's not!", Penny bowed formally and said, "I apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused you. If it so suits you," Penny hesitated, as though she really didn't want to say what needed to be said. "We shall call a private jet to take us to Uncle Matthew's for the rest of our stay in the real world."

The states wanted to protest, they really did, but they saw the sense in her words and nodded slowly in agreement. Yes, they murmured softly, yes, if you so wish we will leave.

England began to soften ever so slowly, touched by their willingness to stop causing trouble. These were obviously good children, pure-hearted like America. They had a strong sense of loyalty, but they would sacrifice their comfort for others' happiness. While America never did that directly, he would do it subtly— if you didn't know him well you wouldn't recognize it. Sitting in the least comfortable chair during meetings, eating England's food before the rest got to it. Little things, unnoticeable things, but still there.

He still cared.

"No… you don't have to leave… I apologize for my behavior. That was… uncalled… uncalled for. I shouldn't have reacted so s-strongly. Vases can… vases can be replaced. You are family. However…" England turned his hard, stern gaze on the two troublemakers. "I shall not let these two get away with being…" The rest of the states began to chuckle evilly. "Getting… some type of punishment."

And the North and South were terrified.

**I really don't know what to say, since I'm just throwing chapter after chapter up here… but thanks for reviewing and stuff! It warms my heart! **

**IceEckos12**


	6. Chapter 6

**Me again! No, I don't own APH.**

4 hours earlier

Russia jumped, turning suddenly. His favorite spigot found its way into his hands, and he fingered it reassuringly.

He could sense something—his senses never lied about anything. They were almost— almost— purring. Russia smiled. That could only mean one thing.

His little sunflower was _back_~!

Mexico slurped her wine delicately, examining her cards with mild interest. They were nothing special—not that great, actually. Not that it mattered. She always cheated, and she always won. And if she did lose—if she did— well, someone would be paying very dearly for their mistake of challenging her.

She thumbed her cards, placing a thoughtful look on her face while still trying to look innocent. That's why she was never caught—she was too good, too smart to lose. Too many years of experience and life on the run did that. She often gambled to get by—besides the drug cartels.

That's when she felt it.

Her baby senses were tingling, her motherly side kicking in. This only happened once in a while, but when it did, she could pinpoint the exact location and time.

After calling a royal flush, Mexico leapt catlike from her seat and rushed out the door.

Time to go see her little Texas!

Present

Matthew wasn't sure to be terrified, furious, or confused.

He knew he couldn't have just ignored the call. Not that he thought the states would get mad—no, quite the opposite. He knew they'd be understanding, they'd love him just as much as before, but… he could also imagine their disappointed faces, their saddened stares, and he knew he could never, would never, ever, say no. No matter how traumatically afraid of them he was, they loved him. They acknowledged him.

And even traumatic fear could not deny that.

So he sat, nodding pleasantly, not being able to help lighting up at their eager smiles and reassuring tones. He was sure that even if he just sat there, mute and unresponsive, they'd continue to chatter, just happy that he was there.

He grasped at the ends of some of their conversations before allowing them to slip out the other side of his brain.

"—so we were like, trying to watch a movie and—"

"—he punched her—"

"—so they were like, totally awesome—"

"—and Papa taught us martial arts—"

"DON'T YOU DARE GIVE ME THAT!"

Everyone stopped, looking around wildly for the loud voice that had interrupted their thoughts. Matthew got a sinking feeling in his gut—that sounded suspiciously like England…

The states were looking around to see where the noise was coming from, whispering. They were confused, and surprised by the outburst. Everyone was looking at everyone else, desperate for some answers. Penny made it her job to find them.

"I'll go see who it is," she murmured. "You wait here."

The states ignored her, tiptoeing noiselessly and eagerly behind her. After a while, a voice called out from the back, "Where did Belle and Louis go?"

Penny swore angrily, realizing she hadn't seen them where the others had left them. She quickened her pace, obviously to protect Belle and Louis from an early and painful death. The states quickened their pace behind her, all thinking the same thing: "Belle and Louis are in deep shit."

"I so very kindly let you into my house, without so much as a bloody complaint, but I don't remember you telling me you planned to destroy it!"

They gathered in a confused circle around the scene, with England holding the two troublemakers up in the air, glaring at them angrily. His face was contorted in a mask of rage, eyes burning like small flames.

Pennsylvania heard an incoherent whisper behind her. "The fairies are agitated."

Ignoring the eccentric comment from their little sister Louisiana, the states followed the trail of carnage left behind by the wrestling duo.

Then, their attention turned back to England. Pennsylvania began to think quickly. _If I don't do something fast, England is going to kill them! What to do, what to do… _Pennsylvania shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts._ Come one! Maybe I should just… apologize? Alright, first I'll go for the diplomatic approach. If that doesn't work, I can always bash him over the head and have Texas hog-tie him!_

"Um… Grandfather." Wincing when she heard the furious cry of, "I'm not that old,", Pennsylvania took a shuddering breath and continued. "Yes, well… we can pay for whatever damage done. Um… I can find a suitable punishment for them, and of course it was our fault as well…" Mentally Penny told the states to just shut up, because it was going so well. Deciding to milk it for all it was worth, Penny placed her hands in front of her and bowed formally to the furious gentleman. "I apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused you. If it so suits you," Penny hesitated, knowing that the states really wouldn't like what she was going to say. "We shall call a private jet to take us to Uncle Matthew's for the rest of our stay in the real world."

Thankfully, the states saw the wisdom in her words. Slowly, they began nodding, agreeing with Penny. They began murmuring, a soft whisper on the breeze that said, _Yes, we'll leave if you wish. _

Out of the corner of her mouth, Penny hissed to Texas, "If he tries anything, you're going to bash him over the head and hog-tie him.

Texas looked at her, obviously alarmed. He was a gentle giant, not one of those, "I'm going to toss you around because I'm biiiiiig!" But Texas had to listen to Penny, as all the others would. So he sighed and nodded imperceptibly.

Penny was so relieved when England started visibly relaxing, all the anger washing out of his weary figure. Something unrecognizable entered his face—recognition? She didn't know. He smiled softly and shook his head. He blinked numbly before speaking. "No… you don't have to leave… I apologize for my behavior. That was… uncalled… uncalled for. I shouldn't have reacted so s-strongly. Vases can… vases can be replaced. You are family. However…" England turned his hard, stern gaze back to Belle and Louis. "I shall not let these two get away with being…" Pennsylvania could almost feel the malicious waves rolling off the states behind her, and imagined them all with identical evil smiles on their faces. "Getting… some type of punishment."

The two in question turned their desperate gazes to the people watching, but stopped when they saw that these guys weren't going to help. Well, they would help, but on the wrong side. Belle turned to Louis, and he turned to her. "If we get out of this alive…" Louis started, and hesitated. Belle nodded. "I understand."

Texas quietly removed Belle and Louis from England's hands, and he stepped back, watching them thoughtfully. Texas gently examined the two, as though sizing them up before handing Belle back to England. "Make sure she doesn't escape." He said gruffly, extracting a long rope from one of his pockets.

England gently grabbed her collar and began watching curiously.

Texas gently sat Louis down in a chair, who was shaking with uncontrolled fright. He first bound his wrists to the arms of the chair and then his ankles to the legs of the chair, humming some unrecognizable tune. Lastly he bound him around the middle, making Louis completely immobile. Stepping back to examine his handiwork, Texas nodded satisfied before doing the same with Belle.

England watched, curious. He had no clue what they were planning on doing. The two looked unsure whether to look murderous or absolutely terrified. Then he jumped at the sound of someone clapping their hands.

He turned to face the states, who were all staring at Alaska, who was the one who'd clapped. She was practically squealing in delight. "Oh, Texas, what a brilliant idea!"

The states turned quickly back to Texas and the tied pair, looking confused, trying to figure out what they missed. Then, one by one they began to figure it out. Reactions varied. Bemused smiles, hard laughter, uproarious praise. Only England didn't understand, which made him feel very left out. "What are you doing?" He asked finally, tired of being left in the dark.

New York sniggered. "He's going to torture them."

England blinked, unsure whether to think he was joking or not.

Texas dragged the chairs so that they were facing each other, knees barely touching. He adjusted them slightly, making sure they were slightly comfortable before standing their like a bodyguard. Everyone was uncomfortably silent, before Belle hissed out the first words; "This is all your fault!" Obviously she didn't want Texas to hear her, but he did. Then England figured out why this was such torture.

Texas slammed one giant fist onto the top of her head, creating stars. She sat dazed, and Louis couldn't help letting out a tiny snort.

Texas smashed his fist down on Louis's head, leaving two extremely dazed people looking woozily around. This was torture, England realized. Not being able to do what they were born to do—insult each other—without getting their heads bashed in was torture. England nearly felt sorry for them. Nearly.

Pennsylvania ushered the states back down the hall, ignoring the complaints of, "No fair!" and "Why can't we watch?" Honestly, she also wanted to watch, but she had to be the role model. And role models did not enjoy watching their younger brother beat up their two really annoying siblings.

Canada walked quietly beside her, looking back every once and a while. Finally he spoke. "You're… you guys are insane, you know that?"

Pennsylvania's mouth twitched. "Yeah… but what's the fun of being sane?"

**Yup, so… me again. I'm putting up the rest of chapter two and the omake today. After that, I'll have to put up the rest of chapter three! Thanks for sticking with the story, everyone! After that, it'll be all new chapters!**

**IceEckos12**


	7. Chapter 7

5 minutes earlier

Russia peeked in through the window looking for his precious Alaska. His violet eyes watched the group, England's furious rage, and then… Yes! There was his little girl, clapping delightfully at something, the other states glancing at her like she was crazy. He frowned a bit at that, but shook it off. He couldn't hurt his sunflower's friends…

Then, he felt a small tap on his shoulder.

Whipping around, spigot drawn, crazy look dawning in his eyes, Russia took his signature position. The person—a dark haired Mexican woman with warm brown eyes, stepped back, arms raised the "easy" position.

"Porfavor calmese Russia. I mean you no harm." She said smoothly, a light Mexican accent dusting her voice. "I came for mi hijo, Texas." She pointed quietly to the giant in the room, tying up two people. Russia squinted his eyes. "Mexico?" When she nodded, he screwed up his face, trying to decipher her words. Finally, he said, "Texas is… your child?"

Mexico nodded, grimacing. "Si. Never have a one night stand with America if you're a chica."

Russia's eyes widened. "He's biological?" He murmured, looking quickly to the gentle giant, who had just bashed the girl over the head. Instantly Russia felt a small amount of respect well up for him.

"Si." Mexico said simply, watching Texas. "Que haces aqui?" She asked.

"Um…" He struggled to remember what that meant. "My, uh, daughter Alaska…" He gestured to her pale figure. "Her."

Mexico nodded. "So you're stalking her?"

Russia gave her a wry grin. "And you're not?"

Mexico grinned. "Then let's be stalkers together, amigo."

"Hey! Heeeeey!" Everyone turned to face the hyperactive boy. They guessed it was something stupid, like "can I be a state". They were sorely mistaken.

The boy in question, D.C., was running as fast as he could from the computer room, huffing and puffing. In his hands was a single paper, and the others could see it had what appeared to be verses on it. D.C. was grinning happily, slightly evilly, at everyone, meaning he'd found something either terrifying or really insulting.

"What you got there?" New York asked finally, scooting so he could look over D.C.'s shoulder. At first, his face was calm; eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he silently mouthed the words. Then, his face began to brighten, eyes alight with humor, and he let out a loud barking laugh. He gestured breathlessly to the other states, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. They moved, pushing and shoving to get a better look. At first, the group was silent, reading the sheet before they too began cracking up.

"Alright!" New York suddenly shouted, leaping up onto the table, putting one hand in the air. "One! Two! A one, two, four!"

And suddenly the states began to sing.

_"In 1814 we took a little trip,_

_Along with Colonel Jackson down the might Mississip!_

_We took along the bacon and we took along the beans, _

_And we met the bloody British at the town of New Orleans!" _

At first, England had been silent, trying to decipher the off-key toneless song. As he kept listening, he began to understand more. He became increasingly annoyed as he listened.

_"We fired our guns and the British kept a comin', _

_There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago. _

_Fired once more and they commenced a runnin', _

_Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico!" _

England opened his mouth, preparing to stop the group from saying anything more insulting. However, Canada noticed what he was trying to do and put a gentle hand on his arm. When England glanced over, Canada shook his head firmly.

"Um… they love this song. I tried to stop them singing it once, and…" Canada grimaced. "They started singing 'Canadian Idiot' instead."

England stared at the Canadian, trying to decide whether or not he was joking. After remembering how evil the states could be and that Canada almost never lied, he had to conclude that the states did infact start singing "Canadian Idiot" when he told them to stop singing. So with a dignified huff, England had no choice but to sit back and listen.

_"Oh we looked down the river and we seen the British come,_

_There must have been a hundred of 'em beatin' on a drum._

_They stepped so high and they made their bugles ring, _

_We stood behind our cotton bales and didn't say a thing."_

England had to admit, it was pretty good. Though they were tone-deaf, and their tempos were… varying, to say the least, you could still understand the words and they seemed so… passionate. It was obviously a favorite, though England didn't like the look New York was giving him, this was beyond past grudges—it was tradition, a song that brought the family together. Now, if only New York would stop looking at him like that…

They repeated the, "We fired our guns and the British kept a comin'", so England assumed that was the chorus.

_"Old Hickory said we could take 'em by surprise,_

_If we didn't fire our muskets 'til we looked 'em in the eye._

_We held our fire 'til we see'd their faces well,_

_Then we opened up with squirrel guns and really gave 'em hell!"_

Half the group fell over in peals of laughter, and the rest had to try hard to keep from laughing. New York had leapt down from the table, and had begun whirling Pennsylvania around the room, the others clapping and laughing on the sidelines. Their faces held delight, laughter, and Penny was blushing at the ground, obviously trying to look anywhere other than New York. Then, with an extravagant twirl, he traded her off for Louisiana.

They sang the chorus again, clapping along with the rhythm and watching Louisiana dance with New York. New York looked uncomfortable; he was regretting switching out for Lou…

_"They ran through the bushes and they ran through the brambles, _

_And they ran through the bushes where the rabbits couldn't go. _

_They ran so fast that the hounds couldn't catch 'em, _

_Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico!" _

And then Illinois was there, more graceful than Louisiana or Pennsylvania. This was due to the many shows and musicals in Chicago.

So New York and Illinois began dancing a more complicated dance, somehow managing to keep within the beat. The twisted and they twirled, creating almost a flow of movement. England couldn't help but be amazed; they were both excellent dancers. The other states cheered, laughing and singing all the way. And then, England felt a rap on the top of his head.

He turned to see Rhode Island, green-gray eyes stopping him cold in his tracks. They sized each other up for a second before Rhode opened her mouth to speak. Making sure everyone heard her, she said, "Grandpa, will you please sing a verse?"

Everyone froze, eyes wide. Their confusion quickly turned to hope, and they were quickly placing England under eager, pleading stares. They knew they would win— the silence was clearly disturbing England, and he shifted, uncomfortable at the silence that now seemed to overtake the happy, overzealous room. Finally he let out a resigned sigh and whispered something unintelligible.

"What was that?" New York asked, grinning mockingly.

"I'll bloody do it!" He shouted, collapsing under the pressure. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he said more quietly, "I'll do it."

Utah handed the paper to England, black eyes gleaming with excitement.

England was extremely unnerved with the situation—he hated that everyone was staring at him, like they expected him to start doing back flips or something. Shivering quietly, he examined the paper. Jumping at the pale hand the suddenly appeared over his shoulder, he found where the hand was pointing. Taking a deep breath, trying not to start screaming, he began.

_"We fired our cannon 'til the barrel melted down,_

_So we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round._

_We filled his head with cannon balls, and powdered his behind,_

_And when we touched the powder off, the gator lost his mind."_

He sang it shakily, wincing every few seconds at an off-key note or a stuttered word. He wasn't used to singing that much—sure, they had operas, but he never really practiced anything… and it was especially unnerving that they were all staring at him, wide-eyed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely catch New York grinning catlike out from behind a video camera. He nearly cursed; he'd get that bloody git later…

As England finished, the states were very silent before starting to clap and whoop, showing their appreciation. He grinned a watery smile at them, though his mind was racing. Did they like it, or are they trying to fool me…?

His thoughts were interrupted very abruptly by something none of them could've predicted. And it all started with loud clapping—much louder than any of the states. It was a booming clap, only made by giant hands. The noise was slightly muffled though, as though covered by gloves or something. At first he was confused—who…? Then his question was answered by the temperature dropping about 20 degrees.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no,…

Ivan Braginski, otherwise known as Russia, walked into the room, clapping slow, booming claps, ignoring the petrified stares directed at him. He smiled at them all, a cold, soft smile. Then he said,

"Beautiful, England. You never told me that you could sing."

Cliffy!

*Giggles* I just want to say… thanks so much for all the review and stuff! It's what keeps me going!

And you were worrying about Matthew? See, he really doesn't do anything. The states think that he's tough enough, smart enough, and strong enough to handle them all, but that's a misconception due to their admiration of him. The states always listen to "Uncle Matthew" anyway.

Ciao!

IceEckos12


	8. Omake

**I actually put this an author's note the first time, because I felt bad about just giving you guys a boring authors note. Anyway, APH is not mine, but the states are!**

Arizona stood, dark hair ruffling slightly in the wind. The breeze was picking up, he realized numbly. It might even rain. He didn't have to glance up to know that clouds had covered the sky, and that they were heavy with water droplets.

It should rain.

He was too deep in thought to notice the quiet, cat-like footsteps that walked slowly, carefully up behind him. When the person wrapped his arms around Arizona's neck and buried his head in Arizona's hair, however, he didn't seem at all surprised.

Instead, he murmured out a quiet, unusually subdued whisper. "New… Mexico." There was a sigh of acknowledgement. "Why…?" He could feel himself beginning to shake with tears. Arizona suddenly noticed the hot, wet liquid dripping down his own face. He hadn't know he'd been crying…

New Mexico said nothing, knowing that it wouldn't help. Arizona just needed to let it out, and silence was his best comfort now.

"Nine years 'ld…" He hiccupped loudly. "She w's nine years 'ld!"

His voice was getting louder, almost hysterical. Arizona had never been good with death—especially young children. He was devastated every time he heard about the bad things happening to young children—New Mexico couldn't help wondering if that was why Arizona always left when they called a meeting to talk about problems child related—he could never handle it quietly.

A small raindrop pattered down on New Mexico's head, and he tilted to face it. "Look, 'Zone, don't cry. They're already crying for you." Arizona leaned slightly into his brother's embrace. "See, when people die too young, they're sad, because they know they had more to do in life. But… there's nothing you can do about it. They're dead now, but their friends and family will carry them in their hearts until their last breath." New Mexico grinned strongly, knowing Arizona couldn't see him. "We'll never forget them, because we'll know how unfair their death was, and that it must not be in vain!"

Arizona glanced up slightly in shock. New Mexico—always the stronger of the two—was an idealist, and always tried to look at things in a new light. Most would call him an optimist. The boy always tried to turn bad things around—so a cat fell out of a tree? Now it'll know not to get in one!—and… Arizona admired that. Figures he'd twist the situation so most people saw it as a good thing. If Arizona had been anyone else, he might've believed that the deaths were a good thing—just listening to the passion in his voice…

"We'll have b'tter security, and—and—" Arizona's voice died down, as though thinking of all the good things that would come out of it. New Mexico brushed some of the rain from his eyes, glancing down quietly to see the states face. He gasped in quiet shock.

Arizona's face was lit up like a Christmas tree, smile enormous and unfaltering. His face shone as bright as the sun, and even the rain couldn't dampen the little golden halo on his head. And yet… his eyes were horribly sad, filled with tears that hesitated for a moment before streaming down his face. After a moment, his smile diminished and he hid his eyes from view, forcing New Mexico to shift slightly. After a few moments, New Mexico caught the small voice whispering one single thing in a whispery, clear voice.

"Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…"

**This was basically just about the Arizona shooting that happened a while ago. In it, a little nine-year-old was killed, and some important person was in the hospital. She's all better now, thankfully. See, that's what happens when you give a psychopath and gun and let 'em loose in Arizona!**

**IceEckos12**


	9. Chapter 8

Alright! Let's see if I can get Idaho to do the disclaimer this time!

Idaho: …

Eckos: Please, sweetie?

Idaho: …

Montana: I'll do it. IceEckos doesn't own Hetalia!

Eckos: And kudos to JinniaFlyer450. She beta-ed the story for me, and some of these ideas are actually hers (so if you see her writing a story with my ideas, don't get all pissy! Those were probably hers to begin with!).

"Beautiful, England. I didn't know you could sing."

5 minutes earlier

America woke up, head throbbing.

He tried to adjust himself comfortably on the couch, but it was much too narrow for that.

Why the hell am I on here anyway? he asked himself, groaning and rubbing his forehead. Why was his head hurting? Sifting through his memories, America found what he was looking for.

He groaned even louder and turned to the back of the couch. Hangover's a bitch. Then, he froze. Though he didn't know what it was, there was something wrong with that sentence. Something so very, very wrong. Dissection! He mentally shouted.

Alright, first, hangover. Okay, I was drinking, but why does that matter? Wait… that might explain why I'm here… so who did I have sex with last night…? He flinched. Oh man. Penny's going to kill me for saying that in front of the… His thought flew back to the first word. Hangover.

Hangover.

"Shit." He muttered angrily, gently easing himself into a sitting position. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit…"

Yes, he knew this room. There was the soft, plushy couch, here's the really thin uncomfortable couch (the states probably thought it would be a good joke if they left him here), there's the stupid chair, there's the ugly magenta floor, there's the supply room, there's the control panel… the control panel!

He leapt up, planning on running for the control room, but stumbled and placed a hand to his head. His head was throbbing angrily, and the room began to spin. America gave up trying to run across the room and began hobbling and muttering, "Hangover cure" He made his way carefully towards the supply room instead.

There was nothing in the supply room in its normal state. It was used by thinking about what one wanted and walking in. Sitting on the floor in plain view would exactly what was asked for; though the room would deny some things-like alcohol, for some reason.

America walked into the room, ignoring the stark white walls and plain tile floors. Examining the room for a second, he finally spotted a small brown package on the floor. He bent down to pick it up and quickly opened it. It was completely empty except for some mystery pills and water—but the room hadn't failed before, so he assumed these were safe. Ripping open the small package of water, he popped in the pills and swished them down. Instantly he felt better—the room had done its job again. Even though the room couldn't hear him, he still shouted, "Nice job, SR! I might just up your pay!" Not that it got anything, but the room was one of his best friends while he was here.

Feeling much better, he began leaping over the furniture, only pausing to think, And Kiku said I couldn't be ninja-like! He paused at the door to the control panel, and began taking everything in.

He was… in D.C., he was guessing. And then he saw them.

They were singing "The Battle of New Orleans", all happy, faces glowing. He drank in their faces hungrily, recalling other times, comparing them to now… Hawaii had grown, he realized with a slight jolt. It was almost unnoticeable, but he'd grown. New York had gotten the plaid band on his hat replaced—the old one had been fraying at the edges. Alaska's hair had grown a bit, though the cowlick was still exactly the same. Pennsylvania had finally washed out her apron—there'd been a yellow spot right there. He examined every one of them; finding the differences, everything… and suddenly, he felt something warm and wet dripping down his face. Surprised, America swiped at it gently and held it up to his eyes. It was clear water, and tasted salty. Tears, he realized. America tried to stop them, because heroes don't cry. Then, as the screen went back to Penny, he remembered something.

America had been sitting on the chair, head in his hands. Why, Japan…? He asked silently. Why? He could still feel it—hear it. The feeling as the bombs smashed into Hawaii—he could still hear his little boy's screams… It was heart-breaking and painful, both physically and mentally. He only felt a shadow of the torture that his future state was going through, but it was enough.

Too much.

He barely heard his boss shouting at some people—"I never wanted this, I didn't want to enter the conflict like this!" and their answers—"We have no choice! Japan is forcing us into the war!" Oh god, it was awful. He didn't want to hurt anyone; Japan was one of his best friends, and he had no grudge against Germany—but now…

Again, the tears threatened to fall, but he pushed them back again. Heroes don't…

And then he heard it. There was shouting in his head—it sounded like someone was trying to force their way into the control panel to talk to him. But that was absurd—everyone would be in the back, trying to care for Hawaii. He almost let the tears fall—almost. It was a nightmare, even more painful than the physical kind to hear Hawaii—the smallest, most innocent—screaming and crying, just like in his father's worst nightmares.

The shouting stopped right before a large noise rocked his head. Then, it became very quiet-until someone shouted, "Hello? You awake, Papa?"

"Penny!" He said in his mind, glad she was here. She'd always been more of a sisterly or motherly figure to him than a daughter, though he still knew otherwise. She was his daughter.

"Papa…" Penny started, then hesitated. "Papa… sometimes it's all right to cry."

He blinked, surprised; then his body betrayed him and shivered. It all happened at once; the tears began to fall, and giant shudders wracked his body. And he finally let himself cry.

America imagined laughing with them, touching their hair, holding them when they cried, spoiling them rotten… and yet, he couldn't do anything. The only thing he could do was sit in that chair and talk with them, but not hug them, not give them things, not spoil them. It was almost unbearable.

He didn't even notice when he slowly slumped to the ground, knees folded under. From his place on the floor, he slowly reached out at the screen, as though he could reach right through and they would know he was there. He imagined them calling him Papa to his face, not just inside his head where he couldn't see them.

America, reaching out towards a hopeless dream, slowly let his tears fall.

Present

England backed away slowly from the advancing Russian, trying not to look terrified. He failed miserably. It was simply too much to handle—his little—America's—oh, alright, his grandchildren showing up from nowhere and scaring the bloody hell out of him, and now this? Any other time he would've wanted to faint, but now he felt a sort of protectiveness for his grandchildren. Who know what Russia would do to them if England wasn't there?

Other people aside, bad things seemed to be happening to him—stupid decisions! First he had the bright idea to get America drunk, which was irrational in the first place (now he wasn't even sure why he'd done it), and then they were calling him grandpa, which wasn't at all smart because he wasn't all that old, and then Russia just happened to show up on his doorstep…

Through all this, he vaguely noticed the states frozen in shock-or maybe petrified in terror, he didn't know.

Then, everything began moving all at once.

Most of the states began reeling backwards, pin-wheeling their arms and using the momentum to get out of the range of his pipe as quickly as possible. Their faces were filled with horror, fear-something of the sort. After they were at the back of the room, they all huddled together, as though trying to gather warmth from each other. They were actually trying to get comfort, but it might as well have been the same.

The rest of the states—Alaska and Pennsylvania ("Because ladies don't act like a frightened rabbit") had varying reactions. Pennsylvania's eyebrows shot up, though she didn't look at all scared. Her shaking betrayed her though, showing exactly how she felt about the appearance of Russia.

Alaska's mouth was open with shock; her eyes were wide, as though she couldn't believe her eyes. Then, her face transformed quickly to an expression of joy and confusion. Finally, as though she couldn't restrain herself, Alaska ran over the short expanse of floor between them and flung her arms around Russia's large neck. He froze, as though unsure how to react before slowly wrapping his arms around the excited girl.

Then, from the center of the huddled states, there was a loud cry. No one was expecting it, and most certainly no one wanted this to be said out loud. "He's like a giant teddy bear!"


	10. Chapter 9

**Hi again, it's me! IceEckos12! No, I don't own APH, but the state are all miiiine. **

The whole room paused.

"Teddy… Bear?" Russia asked curiously, glancing between Alaska and the knot of states. He's like a giant child, England realized quietly, though he would never admit it. Russia had a curious, innocent gaze that most children wore, as though he really couldn't comprehend the reasons that he was like a giant teddy bear. England didn't blame him, though—who could see them?

Hawaii, who had been standing at the center of the throng, was quietly and quickly shoved towards the front. He let out a tiny shriek when he saw Russia, warm brown eyes widening to the size of miniature moons. He inconspicuously tried to push his way back in, still keeping his gaze on Russia. His struggles got even less inconspicuous when he saw Russia walking eerily toward him. Finally, he was left trembling at the feet of Russia, trying to become even smaller than he already was.

"Why did you call me a… Teddy bear?" Russia asked, bending down. Even though he was doing his best, he didn't even reach Hawaii's fluffy head.

"Well…" Hawaii whispered, perky curls quivering in fear. "You're big… and tall… and you're… brown and look kinda fuzzy…" This was quickly turning into a traumatic situation, and the small child regretted ever saying anything. He silently cursed himself for sticking his foot in his mouth. "I'm… sorry… Mr. Russia…"

To everyone's surprise, Russia just leaned down and scooped Hawaii up. Hawaii let out a quiet shriek, eyes dilated with terror. His breathing became quick and labored.

"I'm sorry, little one. I didn't mean to scare you." He smiled as cheerfully as he could at the child, which was terrifying to the young state. It was too much for him to handle. Hawaii passed out.

Russia frowned, brushing some curls away from Hawaii's face. He glanced up quietly, looking innocently for answers. "He passed out…" Then, he almost dropped Hawaii in surprise. He placed his cool hand on Hawaii's forehead, as if to make sure. "He has a fever." Russia murmured worriedly.

Despite being terrified, Kentucky laughed. "Naw, he's always like that. He's our personal… electric… blanket…" Kentucky squeaked out the last word- he had suddenly realized that Russia's attention was completely focused on him. Kentucky shrunk away.

The enormous country pulled up a chair, settling the young state into his lap. His expression relaxed into a look of immense contentment, and he smiled as pleasantly as they'd ever seen him smile. Russia's arms tightened slightly around Hawaii as he gently pulled the boy against his chest. Noticing the odd stares, he elaborated. "He's warm."

As though they understood, the states nodded and lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. It was finally broken by Russia, who said thoughtfully to his daughter, "Why don't you introduce me to all your siblings, da?"

Alaska paused quietly, before saying icily to the rest of the states, "Form a circle." They quickly obliged as to avoid the wrath of Alaska. After a bit of pushing, swearing and shouting, they were all sitting in a large circle that squished them all to the outer edges of the room. No one spoke for a bit, and then Alaska said, "I'll start." She examined them all, making sure they were paying attention before continuing. "My name is Alaska—don't call me Sarah!" There was some sniggering after this, which was silenced by an icy glare. " My favorite color is blue, and my favorite food is smoked salmon." She nodded to the person to her right.

That next person was Illinois, and she looked really uncomfortable to have only Alaska sitting between her carcass and Russia. However, it couldn't be helped, as Alaska was one of her best friends and in truth, outside of Hawaii, Illinois was the only one who would sit next to Alaska, besides Oregon.

"My name is Illinois, or Lincoln. My favorite color is brown, and my favorite food is corn." She shifted again, scooting just a bit farther away from Russia.

Next was Wisconsin, who was scooting as far away from Russia as possible. He froze when everyone's eyes landed on him, obviously uncomfortable with the sudden attention. He was smart, but he was obviously very shy.

"Um… I'm Wisconsin. My… favorite color is… blue. And my favorite food is… cheese." Then he shrank into himself, almost as though trying to disappear.

The next person was Minnesota, a soft spoken state who wore a thick coat. He reminded some of Norway; cold, quiet and carefully composed. Minnesota seemed indifferent to Russia, and most would've believed his façade if they'd not known him well. In truth, they could tell he was frightened, due to the fearful tinge in his eyes and the slight shake in his pale hands.

"My name is Minnesota." He said softly. "My favorite color is white, and my favorite food is…" Minnesota frowned hesitantly. "Hot soup."

At that exact moment, there was a loud crash from the room where Belle and Louis were being punished. There was silence, and then a shriek. "Stop, damn you! Texas, god dammit, pick me up! Don't leave me down here!" Another long pause. "I said let me up, guh—!"

There was another crash, and a long stream of curses was audible. Then, there were loud, thumping footsteps down the hall, and Belle and Louis appeared; Louis with a black eye and Belle with her lush black hair mussed and a goose egg beginning to form on her head. They both hobbled unsteadily to the circle. Belle slumped down between Minnesota and Louisiana, and Louis flopped unhappily between Oregon and Washington.

The two paused when they noticed everyone staring at them. "What?" Belle finally purred, trying to regain her seductive airs, even though they were ruined by her wild hair and rather unattractive goose egg. That's when she noticed Russia; her tanned face turned pale, and her eyes flickered uncertainly.

"It's an introduction circle." Oregon said, eyes lighting up with childish pleasure. "Your turn!"

Belle flipped her hair, momentarily distracted from Russia's intimidating presence. She loved to brag about herself— always trying to outdo everyone, enemy or friend.

"My name is Belle, or the South." She flashed England and Russia a bright grin. England quickly glanced away, while Russia just blinked. He seemed to be immune to the South's flirtatious advances. She frowned slightly, before continuing. "My favorite color is red, and my favorite food is…" She smacked her lips, and seemed to focus on something other than her beauty. "Shrimp with anything." Then, as though she couldn't help herself, she said, "My greatest traits are my beautiful hair and my…" Belle grinned seductively. "Shapely figure."

And then a whisper—which wasn't really a whisper at all. "Yeah, and you should all know that she did half the states in the Civil War."

Belle flushed a bright red, then purple, and finally all the blood receded from her face. Her lips trembled in silent horror, and her dark eyes quietly darted around. Then she hissed, "How—how the hell did—" Then the blood rushed back to her face and she backtracked. "Not that it's true. No—no way— why the hell would you accuse me of that, Louis dear?" Belle let produced shrill, hysterical laughter.

Anyone could see that this was true, as not only the South but almost all of the male states began coughing and blushing furiously. The younger and more naïve boy states looked around curiously, wondering why their siblings were acting so funny.

"I know what's going on in my territory." Louis said smugly, obviously pleased that he'd finally managed to ruffle Belle. "You did half my states too, Belle. I think I'd notice."

England himself found that he wasn't all surprised by this, though it was still slightly disturbing to know that this girl had made love with more people than he had and had only been on the earth for a few short instants comparatively.

Belle was even more infuriated. "How dare you?" She shrieked, lunging at the North angrily. Her eyes took on a wild appearance, and she looked even less pretty than she had a moment before. It was almost like she was a wild black cat, with her manicured nails extended in front of her and teeth opened to chomp.

Louis easily caught her and rolled backwards in a practiced move, like they'd done this a million times before. Their fights were redundant, England decided. They always had the same insults, and their arguments were more childish every time he heard them, though there was nothing childish about the reason they had come into existence. Even their fist fights were redundant—it seemed that Louis was pulling on the same clump of hair and Belle was dragging her nails down the same patch of face as they both had been earlier.

Everyone was very quiet for a moment, before they turned back to the center, all with deadpan expressions on their faces. "Who's next?" Penny asked conversationally.

**Teehee, it's me! **

**Okay, so this chapter is actually pretty much a filler; a little boring actually, but whatever! **

**Anyway, I've been so high on review and favorites that I forgot to thank everyone! ^^' Sorry, but now I'm going to do it! **

**Thanks to: CheesyFursona, kura-wolfgoddess, Musingsage, Prettycolours, storminateacup7, blurry19, and thychi for reviewing the story! Also thanks too: 1funkeymaster51, 2bblue101, CheesyFursona, CrimsonLaurana, MagicWhiz45, Melody-chii, animime, inuinuchu, 47kaw2, Emoticon, and thychi for favorite-ing the story! And last but not least: 1funkeymaster51, hippojello , kura-wolfgoddess, Melody-chii, Musingsage, Secret-H, storminateacup7, xMaddie, blurry19, MagicWhiz45, Animateia, Gold-Eyed-Fox, Vincent Sansa Halestrom, ForeverTheHeroAndKing and (once again, the last person) thychi for subscribing! Thanks so much! **

**If anyone has any questions for me about the story, I'm here. And also, I've got a beta now! It's Resoan, and though Resoan didn't edit these chapters (and hasn't edited the next one), the next one will be beta-ed by Resoan! So thanks to Resoan! **

**Thanks everyone for reading!**

**IceEckos12**

**P.S. Ah, I nearly forgot! I got into a community! *Is so excited* It's something like "America the Awesome" (wouldn't that be a better name for Gilbert's community...?) But is so happy! **


	11. Chapter 10

America grinned at the blushing states, even while turning red himself. His smile was slightly hysterical—after all, he'd been inside D.C. when it happened…not in the usual spot, but… and oh man, Belle was… Never mind. Forget about that. Back to the subject.

Serves them right. America thought smugly. Their fault for letting themselves be seduced with that southern whore. It was more an affectionate name than a real insult in America's case, no matter how true it was. Belle was a—how would you put it—man-an-nizer, or a female womanizer. Is mananizer a real word? America asked himself. He shrugged. He'd make it a real word as soon as he got out. Half the American slang in the English dictionary had been put in there by him—all he had to do was send in a little notecard with the word and definition on it, and then-bam! Into the dictionary it was.

America glared at the screen-more specifically, Russia. He shouldn't be here! Alaska wasn't going with that damn commie this time, she'd gone last time! He had no right to be here!

"What does he want?" America muttered out loud, wincing slightly when his voice echoed. Hopefully D.C. hadn't heard any of that; he really didn't want to talk to his little doppelganger at the moment. For some reason, he just… didn't want to talk to any of his kids at the moment, which was really unusual. He loved talking to them, especially during meetings. Now…

America shook his head vigorously, trying to clear his head of negative thoughts. Everything he'd ever learned he questioned in here—it was a thoughtful place.

He knew he couldn't keep hiding from his kids forever, so he shouted, "Yo! D.C.!"

D.C. jerked, looking around wildly for whoever had shouted at him-and realized the shout came from within his head. _"Papa…?" _he asked tentatively.

America immediately softened; he just couldn't keep shouting when his kids were involved. "Hey, little man. How goes it?"

D.C. brightened considerably._ "Good, Papa! But Grandpa got all pissed 'cause Belle and Louis nearly destroyed the living room…"_

America groaned. "Damn. I suppose I have to pay him back, don't I?"

_"Yup."_

"Why do those two always have to…?"

D.C. smiled sympathetically. _"They're the North and the South, Papa. It's what they were born to do." _D.C. giggled, which the others must have heard out loud but ignored. _"Tex did the Punishment on them."_

America smiled at that. "Good, though I doubt it'd ever do much good. Bet it was pretty funny."

_"Yeah, I bet it was, but Penny wouldn't let us watch."_

"Hn. Too bad."

_"… Should I tell the others you're awake?"_ D.C. asked, glancing around quietly at the other states. Honestly, he really, really, didn't want to tell them—they would all have varying reactions. Most would crowd around him, and tell D.C. to make Papa say hello—others would shrug, unconcerned, though you could tell they were still happy. It killed him to think they would only be paying attention to him 'cause they knew Papa was looking.

D.C. could feel the indifferent shrug. "Do what you like, Diece. Doesn't matter."

_"Oh… okay." _They sat for a while in a comfortable silence, no one speaking. Finally, D.C. broke the pause. _"Hey, Papa…"_

America tilted his head, and then realized that D.C. couldn't see him. "Yeah, kiddo? What's up?"

He was quiet for a long pause, and America was just about to ask him what was wrong when the boy mumbled something. The nation blinked, confused, and then coaxed, "Uh yeah, D.C., it so helps if I can understand you."

The capital took a deep breath and asked, _"Do you think… do you think we'll ever… you know… get out? Figure out what happened?"_ There was a soft, muffled sigh. _"Do you think… do you think we have to… you know… keep doing this forever?" _There was strong emotion embedded in his words that sounded like hopelessness, weariness and even…defeated, resigned. They're older than they look, America had to remind himself.

America was surprised. He had never guessed that his kids were disappointed with the arrangement in general—he wasn't as prone to getting drunk as much as he once had been, though, so they complained a lot when they weren't let out after a while. He couldn't blame them—even he really didn't want to be cooped up in a giant living room with just two bathrooms, an awesome supply room and a control panel to entertain themselves with for years at a time. The girls at first had gotten their own outhouse—it'd created chaos for the 10 boys, but all in all it was okay. However, when more states started piling in, America decided that the girls would have to share. They'd had a horrible argument; girls against boys against America. Even though he'd only heard half of it, he'd gotten the picture: The girls had lined up a row of furniture to make a fort, and the boys had done the same. Somehow they'd gotten hold of toy guns (stupid supply room, though thank god it didn't let them have real ones) and had begun duking it out. Finally he'd managed to convince them to just let a few in, or the "normal, nice" boy states, as the girls called them.

The living room was another story—it seemed to grow with each new addition. At first there'd only been two couches and a plush chair, but now there was the uncomfortable couch, the three nice couches, 4 plushy leather chairs, two desks, 3 bookcases, innumerable beanbag chairs and a round table. The room was giant—they could probably fit a few more siblings in there, if they really tried. It would be a very, very tight squeeze though. The states told him not to get any more after Hawaii and Alaska.

The supply room, though, was a godsend. It'd showed up at the very beginning—no one was quite sure how it worked until Georgia (she was either really smart or was very, very, lucky) had wished for some hushpuppies. She—America guessed she'd paused outside the door, wiped a bit a drool off her face (it was her "I'm uber bored" room) and lo and behold, sitting on the floor was a steaming hot plate of hushpuppies.

Let's just say that they had many, many arguments about who controlled that room, because whoever controlled the room controlled the vices/obsessions. It was a long, hard battle, enough to rival the civil war. Many states (read: New York, New Jersey, [1]Blagoland) could and would use any opportunity to gain leverage over their siblings (read: blackmail). The battle ended when Alaska showed up. Very, very quickly.

America sighed unhappily, really not wanting to answer this question. In all honesty, he knew exactly how to fix this; in fact, he'd known for a long time. He wasn't a genius—it had taken him years to figure it out and he'd kept it to himself for forever. He'd done it because… his kids seemed so… they weren't actually telling him they were unhappy. Anyway, the answer was this: all the states had to get drunk, including D.C., Belle, and Louis, which was a big no-no. And he didn't just mean for Belle and Louis.

Why?

First, Pennsylvania. While Penny was his daughter, she was also… well, let's just say she had a motherly streak the size of Texas. If America was their father, then Penny was their mother, no matter how scary or scared she seemed. The others always looked up to her in a pinch (which made Penny very… competent), and when they were sad, she comforted them. And when she was sad… everyone was sad. She was their "mother". And "mothers" most certainly did not let underage-seeming children drink, let alone get drunk. No matter how old they actually were, Penny insisted that they were still underage and could not drink, not even a sip. Once, when New York, New Jersey, Texas and Nevada had gotten some beer from god knows where, Penny had sniffed them out in seconds and "whupped us so bad I couldn't feel my buns for a week!" (Courtesy of Texas). Penny might be persuaded to let the original 13 drink, but certainly not the younger ones.

Second, the states were bad enough on their own. With a little alcohol, it would be hell on earth. They were rambunctious, temperamental, and out for blood normally! Once, New York had slipped something passed Penny and had gone Broadway!New York. Six videos and no less than 202 blackmail pictures later, Penny finally realized why New York was giving them such a delightful performance and had dragged New York away (they probably heard his screams across the world).

That was only, however, after New York had tap danced his way across two tables (spilling the china), twirled into three bookcases and groped no less than 7 people (While his singing and dancing was exceptional, he was still drunk). God knows what alcohol would do to the others, and America would rather not explore this path. They would need a little more than timid Canada, "Grandpa" England, and freaky Russia to restrain and keep track of everyone (while the states were terrified of Russia when normal, it had been apparent when New York was drunk that he wasn't afraid of anything, even something that could give him a concussion in record time).

And third… this was a personal reason. While he would be extremely happy for his little states—they barely got any time outside, and he could imagine their faces when they saw the real, big wide world… but… he was so worried about them. There were 53 kids, including D.C., Belle, and Louis, and it was so hard to keep track of them all, even inside his head. What would happen if… if… what would happen if someone decided to use the states against him? They could probably steal one of the quieter ones, like Arizona or Idaho, and no one would notice for a few hours. By then it would be too late; they would either have to do a desperate rescue mission or hand over a few nukes to get them back, and that was out of the question; the pres wasn't going to risk national security for a kid, no matter how important. All of his personified states, though, were very important-these were his children. Though they weren't biologically his, they were the closest thing he had to a family besides Canada and Arthur. He could never, ever stand it if they got hurt.

America just couldn't get D.C.'s hopes up like that—it was bad enough hiding the key to their escape, but it would be even worse when they figured out there were more restrictions on that path to freedom. He was just going to have to lie, though America suspected it wouldn't work. For some reason, no matter how hard he tried, he…changed…for his kids. The happiness was never an act with the other nations; it was just as though someone tore down a wall with his states. Suddenly he wasn't oblivious, or loud, or overly happy. He was… their father, if that made sense.

Going back to D.C., he contemplated his words carefully. "I've thought about it…" America said slowly. Not a lie. "…and I didn't come up with anything that I think would really work." It wasn't really a lie. It would work, but at too high a price. For a moment he almost thought D.C. had bought it; in fact, he opened his mouth to continue when a soft, commanding voice crackled over the intercom. "Tell me."

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" America smiled softly.

D.C. shook his head vigorously. This attracted even more stares, and some of the other states shifted, as though they were wondering if they should ask. The capital tried to look casual, and nodded slightly. The states who had gotten suspicious shrugged and paid attention to the speaker again.

The America doppelganger turned his attention inward, and crossly waited for an answer. D.C. could almost imagine the slightly amused smile America had on his face, leaning back in his chair, Nantucket pointing up. Then, America sighed and said, "My theory… I think it's true. In fact, I know it's true. I know it'll work." D.C. wiggled in excitement. "All right, don't get your hopes up; I never told you guys for a reason." The capital slumped, but still waited expectantly.

"See, what you have to do… is everyone, all the states, Belle, Louis, you, everyone has to get drunk."

**There's one more chapter after this before we enter unexplored territory! I'll remind you now: these are just parts of bigger chapters that I had to split up because they were way too long, so I felt I had to write really long chapters. And this is the second to last part of the last chapter before I start ad-libbing. Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with the story!**

**[1] Blagoland: Basically, some wacko tried to sell Obama's (the presidents) old seat and failed. Miserably. Among many other things that he did. **

**IceEckos12**


	12. Chapter 11

**Stares mournfully at last update time… **

_"See, what you have to do… is everyone, all the states, Belle, Louis, you, everyone has to get drunk."_

D.C. couldn't help it; he laughed. At first, it was just soft sniggers, but then his body shook, his mouth open in a huge, happy grin. An impossibly loud, joyous sound rattled the corners of the room-if it had been any louder, the other states would've felt a breeze. The ones in question were staring at D.C. in a kind of unrestrained horror, and one could hear someone say, "He's finally lost it."

That seemed to put him even more off; he slumped forward, not even bothering to try and restrain his hysterics. D.C. began to pound the ground, eyes streaming silvery tears. The capital even reverted to his original form, his 7-year-old self. The states began to back away, unsure whether or not to approach their insane, hysterical little brother. Finally, Penny began to walk cautiously forward. She examined him before kneeling down beside him. Then, she picked up a magazine (The states immediately wondered where the hell that had come from) , rolled it up, and struck D.C. across the face with it.

It stopped as suddenly as it began, as though the slap had shocked the laughing fit out of him. Breathing heavily, D.C. leaned back, trying to control himself. He yawned loudly, then exhaled a long sigh, and stretched. "I'm good." He mumbled finally, still trying to reign in his breathing. "All done."

"You sure, Diece?" D.C. turned his head to face Montana, a tall, wiry boy with a kind face and weathered, tan skin. Montana was a caring state, and if Pennsylvania wasn't there he'd take over the "motherly" job. He was strong, stronger than most states, and had a love of animals.

"Yeah, Montana. All good now." D.C. stretched again. Who knew that laughing could be so tiring…

As Montana smiled reassuringly, the other states began to giggle, as they could see that Idaho was creeping up on the bigger state with nothing short of glee in his eyes. Idaho was the most expressive of the states, but he had to be; the other states had never heard him talk, and Montana could count on one hand how many times he'd spoken to him.

The boy's curls quivered with excitement as Montana looked around questioningly at the other states. A split second before it happened, recognition bloomed on Montana's face. Idaho leapt. The limber, acrobatic boy grabbed Montana's shoulders, vaulting himself up. His feet lost their perch; he was balanced precariously on the taller boy's head. He flailed at the air for a moment before wrapping his arms around Montana's head, which earned a startled yelp. Grinning manically, Idaho clawed his feet up the state's back, found purchase on his shoulders, and jumped straight up. Montana stumbled, startled, and then Idaho landed perfectly in his original position on his brother's shoulders. There was some collective cheering as Idaho began messing with his brother's hair, ignoring the startled jostling as the taller state tried to regain his footing. Idaho didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that Montana could fall over; it was astounding how much trust he had in him.

"The hell—" Montana muttered, finally managing to straighten up again. "What have I told you about doing that, dammit!" Idaho didn't answer—he just patted Montana's cheek happily. "All right, all right…" Montana grumbled. The reason that Idaho was forgiven so readily was that the potato state had Montana wrapped around his finger—all he had to do was give him the puppy dog look, or the a gentle pat, and all was forgiven. That was just the way it worked.

America grinned at the group, grateful for the distraction. These were his kids, always doing something stupid. The only ones he wouldn't trust with his life was Belle and Louis, but they were different. Both of them were slightly selfish, and immature. They were also part of him, not his kids. In fact, they'd been the only ones that had ever physically pained him…

"GOD DAMMIT, I CAN DO WHAT I FUCKING LIKE! YOU CAN'T CONTROL ME ANYMORE! I'M LEAVING! YOU'LL NEVER GOD DAMN SEE ME AGAIN. I'M LEAVING!"

America listened in silent horror, trying to understand the words. He noted that underneath the yelling there was softer shouting, telling the furious state to just calm down. "Stop!" He screamed, trying to get their attention. "STOP!"

They didn't—and suddenly—suddenly… Pain. Deep in his chest, there was pain raising out, consuming him… He could barely hear anything, there was someone screaming—but maybe he was screaming—but he didn't care anymore—Mattie what're you…?—No, I'll be fine, just let me scream a little bit more… It hurts, Mattie! Papa, make it stop!

It felt like something was ripping inside him, tearing him apart. Through blurred eyes he could barely catch his brother screaming something at him, and there was his kids in the background, crying his name…

And then everything went black.

Later, he had gotten the whole story. Apparently he had been splitting in half. He was ripped down the middle, but there weren't any organs. Instead, 50 states and 1 capital poured out onto America's floor, crazy with worry for "Papa". His two halves—it sounded really creepy—apparently then kind of went in on themselves, or shrank. They started glowing, and lo and behold two people were formed. They introduced themselves immediately, one the South and one the North. Belle took the Southern states with her, and Louis took the Northern states with him. The states eventually figured out that Papa had just disappeared—he wasn't even in the mind room anymore. It was a highly traumatizing situation for them.

While when the North won, America returned, Belle and Louis joined the growing throng on the inside. To many of the states, this was unfortunate—Belle and Louis reminded them of things they'd just as soon forget.

None of them would forget, though. One cannot erase history from the minds of those who were there.

There was really though, more important things to be worried about than history at the moment, America mused.

It was only a matter of time until D.C. told everyone, and there would be a pivotal choice to make.

Either way, he know that some part of him would be disappointed.

Hey! I know this is kind of later than you were expecting—but I have an honest to god reason why. First: I had a 4,000 word document on the old computer disk and the new hard drive just happened to delete the newer version and reverted to the old one. I was so not happy. I still think the other version was better than this one, but what can you do?

Second, the computer was crashed 'cause of the new hard drive (but you already know this). And the computer isn't working any better than it did before. *grumbles*.

Third, on the day the new hard drive started working again, I came down with a cold. My throat hurt, my head hurt, and my nose was snotting buckets. I wasn't writing anything. Now I'm feeling better, though, so I was able to get this to you!

Alright, for those who don't know:

Blagoland: In other words, Illinois. While Illinois is a good musician and a farmer, she's probably one of the most corrupt states. Blago in "Blagoland" refers to a corrupt politician who was selling out what once was Obama's seat to the highest bidder, among other things. They caught him though, thankfully.

*Sighs* Okay, so I screwed up. This bit was attached on the end of the last chapter, but I never posted it. I'm also going to start posting the newer chapter, because I'm done waiting for the beta. I don't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. Hang in there! I'll be posting the chapters slowly, maybe one every two days, just to keep you guys hooked.

Do Svidanya!

IceEckos12


	13. Chapter 12

**Hey! Long time no see, mah homies! **

**Anyway, this chapter has some star guests! The Bad Touch Trio! Give it up for Prussia, Spain and France! **

**France: Bonjour! **

**Spain: Hola!**

**Prussia: HEY! The awesome me has arrived!**

**F/S: ….**

**Prussia: Stop staring! Too much awesomeness will blind you! **

**IceEckos: ANYWAY… I don't own Hetalia! **

Texas stared at Mexico.

Mexico stared at Texas.

The two were sitting in the chairs that Belle and Louis had recently occupied, staring at each other.

If you weren't part of the family, or even one of the other countries you wouldn't know what to make of this. On one hand, it was a passionate stare filled with desire. Of course, it might've been a passionate stare filled with the desire to kill one another. As it was, their relationship was a bit strained. While Mexico didn't resent Texas for her being beaten by America, it was just that… now Texas was part of America. And a bit of her worst enemy was just sitting there. Staring at her.

"Hola, madre." Texas said softly. Finally.

"Hola, niño." Mexico replied smoothly.

And then Mexico threw her arms around Texas, and Texas mirrored her.

It was an odd relationship.

* * *

Montana examined the floor beneath him, questioning whether or not he would fall if he sat down. The weight on his head shifted, and Montana growled softly, slightly frustrated. Of course, Idaho wasn't worried. Idaho was still draped around his shoulders, gnawing on a potato. And Idaho was the happiest idiot in the world.

Montana sighed. Also, Idaho had him wrapped around his little potato-y finger. He would probably do backflips for that boy, and he didn't even know if he could do backflips! And honestly, he really didn't want to find out.

"Hey, Idaho." He decided, gently scuffing his shoes on the floor. He felt the boy tap his head in response. "I'm going to sit down. Work with gravity, 'k?"

Idaho just wrapped his arms around Montana a little tighter in response, which he took as the go-ahead. As he prepared one of Idaho's arms loosened, then tightened again. If Montana had to guess, Idaho had just placed his potato in a safe place on the off chance he'd fall off.

Just as Montana was preparing to sit down, something happened that scared the living shit out of everyone.

A loud noise came from outside, accompanied by words that could be swearing except for the fact they were in a different language. It sounded slightly… German.

Then, there were words the people in the room could understand. "Stop tramping around, Prussia! You sound like America!" You could vaguely recognize these words had a slight French accent. There was another, softer noise, and Prussia said, "Oh can it France! The awesome me does not sound like that unawesome America!" The states froze with fright. Prussia and France?

Then, a softer, more melodic voice said, "Calm down you two. Let's just do what we need to do and go." A short pause. "What do we need to do again?"

Now actually, these voices were very soft, and you couldn't hear them if you were inside the house. England couldn't hear them, and neither could Russia, but the states had suddenly developed super-sonic hearing. So the states could hear every word the three said. And they were absolutely terrified. "We have to get out of here!" Maine squeaked, flipping his white-blonde hair out of his eyes. "Otherwise we'll be molested by those perverts!" He ignored the voice that growled, "Look who's talking!"

Even Oregon, the most optimistic and peppy of all of them looked frightened. "We're done for…" Nevada whispered, his black eyes already searching for an exit. Finding none, he flopped back down on the ground and moaned in protest.

"Whoever said that, goddammit? We're not finished until we're dead, shitheads! Fight for your fucking innocence, comrades!" The states groaned and turned to New Hampshire, the spunky little boy who only showed his prowess in battle. While he was inept at dialect and explaining things, he was an excellent battle strategist and also quite an excellent fighter, despite his size. Most of the states would've been happy to listen to him, except for the fact that he had the delivery of a cockroach (no offense to any cockroaches out there) and most of his speech included lots of swearing.

Lots and lots of swearing.

"New Hampshire! What have I said about swearing?" Pennsylvania was giving off a killing intent that could rival Russia, and her stance suggested that she was about to crush the boy. New Hampshire, despite the obvious warnings, seemed unperturbed.

"No, fucking woman! I don't give damn what you say!" And that was how New Hampshire found himself imbedded in the wall, smoke slowly swirling up from his cheek which was heavily bruised. Pennsylvania then turned back to the problem; she'd hate it if the Bad Touch Trio figured out about her beloved little children, but where do you hide 52 children in five minutes?

"To the basement!" Someone hissed. It was an unrecognizable voice, but the states weren't worried. Half the time the states forgot everyone else; that was just the way things worked. Only a few states, such as Hawaii and Alaska got truly remembered. Alaska because she was scary, and Hawaii 'cause he was just so cute.

Montana jumped in shock, because he recognized that voice. He rarely heard it (read: once in every 100 years), but the voice was impossible not to recognize.

Idaho had decided to come out of his shell after all.

"Shh!" Idaho squealed happily, placing a finger in front of Montana's lips. If Montana had looked up, he would've seen the playful gleam dancing around in the smaller boy's eyes. "I want to surprise everyone~!" He sang softly, though no one else seemed to notice the exchange. Montana gently tugged at Idaho's foot, showing his silent confusion. "You're wondering why I came out now?" Idaho asked, grinning mischievously, though it had a slightly sinister look. "Because it's becoming so interesting!"

Montana examined the boy warily, not at all sure what to make of this. Idaho had once told him that he wasn't really Idaho; just a shell. And one day, "The owner will come and reclaim his shell." Idaho had refused to say anything else after that, but Montana had gotten the picture: I am not who you think I am, but one day he will be here. It was an eerie statement, but Montana had just brushed it off as eccentricity. Later on though, he got the strong feeling that there was even less to Idaho than anyone thought. He was, as he had put earlier, just a shell. So who is the real Idaho? He had wondered. Now he knew.

Idaho smiled and dug his elbow hard into the older child's head, which surprised him greatly. He'd always thought of Idaho as timid and happy, but now he seemed somewhat rude and… well, there wasn't another way to describe it. "Fine, fine." He growled softly, and Idaho lessened the pressure on his elbow.

Oblivious to the state's panicking inside, the Bad Touch Trio crept around the house and stood at the front. They were a mismatched group; one was tall, in blue and red, and his stance suggested grace, even in stillness. This had one long, blonde hair that waved slightly and bright blue eyes that had generous sized eye-lashes. He was, to put it simply, a heart-throb to girls, but he mostly tried using his "sexiness" to attract the same sex.

The second person was a bit taller than the first, but he couldn't be more different. He was wearing a long-sleeved white polo shirt, dark blue jeans, and a small silver cross dangled around his neck. Surprisingly, he had almost glowing silver hair that stuck up in all directions, and had on odd yellow bird nestled in his hair. Also odd about him were his hard-core red eyes. One would think they were contacts, except that those who knew Gilbert quickly realized he was never letting anyone close to his eyes with those things. Gilbert was also extremely pale.

The third person was the shortest of the group by quite a bit; he barely reached France's chin. He was wearing a tan long-sleeved shirt, and the collar was tied up in a little bow. The texture was similar to what the Australians wear, and he wore pants of the exact same material that ended with two long white socks. The man's hair was a dark brown, and went all over the place, though much more gracefully than Prussia's. He had bright green eyes that seemed to run you through. He was a heart-throb in a different way than France; in a softer, more graceful and elegant way.

"You dressed down today, Gilbert." Spain said quietly, examining his albino friend with mild curiosity.

Prussia snorted. "What, do I always have to dress in those not-awesome clothes West makes me wear? He's like my mother!"

Spain raised his hands and smiled softly. "It's fine, Gilbert. But Francis…" He shot a confused look at the sparkly man. "What are we doing here again?"

France froze under Spain's piercing, cat-like stare. They remained like that for a while, and then Prussia joined Spain in the stare down. Finally, France just let out an annoying laugh and said, "It's a surprise! Shh, no telling!" The two got up in his face. "Tell us, Francis! Secrets are so not-awesome!" (Well, that's not what Spain said, but close-enough) France let out a sparkle-attack and laughed again. "Calm down, it's nothing like that!"

"Oh yeah? Then what is it?" Prussia demanded, crossing his arms angrily. Spain backed Prussia silently, standing behind him like a body-guard (that was a few inches shorter). They make quite the pair, France mused. He considered them quietly, and then said, "Alright, alright. I'll tell you, but you have to keep it secret!"

France was interrupted by the sounds of a large crowd stamping around inside the house, and the sound of panicked and hushed voices. For a moment the voices stopped, but then someone started shouting something unintelligibly. After that there was a loud bang¸ like something hitting a wall, and time seemed to freeze.

The three older men were wondering what was going on in there, as they'd never heard of Arthur having any sort of guests over, and especially not a whole crowd. Arthur wasn't exactly the most social person around, and his only friends were America and Japan.

France then had a breakthrough. "Oh! What if America got England drunk again and they're having a wild drunk party?"

Spain considered. "I don't think so. I hear no music, or any more signs of the crowd."

France laughed his creepy laugh. "What if they heard Prussia outside and are going to the basement? You know how much England hates Prussia when he's drunk…" France's eyes flashed with a memory that neither Prussia nor Spain wanted to explore.

"Perhaps." Spain said softly.

Then France and Spain noticed what Prussia was doing. He was climbing up the building to the top floor, where a window had been thrown open. That was his obvious target, and the two gasped when he slipped slightly. "Get down from there, you putain de imbécile!" (That should be "fucking imbecile" according to google translate.) France shouted angrily, hurrying to the ground under Prussia so he could catch him if he fell.

Prussia let out a loud cackle while Gilbird settled back down in his silver hair. "How…dare…." Prussia grunted, "That…Un-awesome… American…have… a wild… drunk party… without…the awesome… ME!" At "me", he managed to fling his arms around the ledge. He looked mildly surprised, as though he really didn't expect himself to reach the top, before shrugging and wiggling the rest of the way in. While France and Spain shouted obscenities at him from the ground, Prussia put one foot on the window ledge, held up his fingers in a "V" and shouted, "I have conquered the window! Soon I will conquer all your vital regions!" Before he disappeared into the house.

Spain and France were quiet for a moment. "Who was he talking too?" Spain asked finally.

"I don't know." France shrugged. "The whole world?"

Spain cocked his head, mildly confused. "What are the vital regions of the whole world?"

France thought for a moment, his perverted mind already churning. "Mt. Everest?"

The two were soundless for a while, both deep in thought. A moment or two later, France questioned, "Should we go after him?"

Spain considered the notion, and nodded.

**As I promised, here's the first part of the fourth chapter! We're entering new, unexplored territory now! *Pumps fist* On with the story!**

**Ooh, evil Idaho! Can't you just imagine him with glowing red eyes? … so maybe he doesn't have glowing red eyes, but… **

**Spain and France talking about the vital regions of the world made me laugh...am I supposed to be laughing at my own story?**

**Heh heh…Thanks! **

**IceEckos12**


	14. Chapter 13

**Back again! Disclaimer: No own APH.**

Prussia grinned, examining the room he had fallen in. It appeared to be a bedroom, or perhaps a guest-room; it was pretty plain and simple, with sunny yellow walls and a red, white, and blue border at the top. Actually, the yellow clashed with the border, but it was there anyway. There was a single bed in the center of the room, with the sheets laid out all prim and proper. In the corner there was a small desk, and a vanity sat almost haughtily in the other corner.

To make himself feel better, Prussia ran over and began jumping on the bed.

Nursing a bruise, Prussia quickly opened the door to escape the evil bed (He'd been singing "Three Little Monkeys" [1] and somehow the bed had actually pushed him off). Trying to be all sneaky and stuff, Prussia crept down the hall, only pausing to examine some old-fashioned, stuffy picture in the hall. When he reached the stairs, he poked his head around the wall to see if anyone was coming.

It was deserted.

Prussia had never believed in the supernatural, but this was starting to look a lot like that freaky movie America had shown him; Paranormal Activity [2], was it? Only one person in the room, no sound at all, just doing normal things, and then… shaking off the feeling, Prussia continued. Skipping the last step, Prussia was led into the hall.

It was deserted as well.

Feeling a dark sense of foreboding welling up inside, Prussia slowly began inching his way to the living room (Once, when England had been especially drunk, he'd had a "wild drunk party" and had invited Prussia. After getting familiar with the house, Prussia had gone to go and bug England. That was the last time England was ever nice to Prussia while drunk.). He heard no more noises of the large crowd he'd heard, and there was a picture and the remains of a glass vase on the floor…

Prussia let out an involuntary whimper, but then quickly tried to remedy his blunder. Being scared was so not awesome! Shaking off his fear quickly, a thought suddenly popped into his head; didn't England have some sort of fetish for magic? Maybe he'd cursed the house to reject all intruders…! Maybe he'd be eaten and left to rot for 15 years! Oh, the horror!

So no one really blamed Prussia when he screamed.

Prussia whipped around, eyes dilated to take in what had bumped into him and spoken. The voice had said "Now what are you doing here?" in a creepy, chilling voice. He'd practically felt the dark aura rolling off whoever—or whatever—had spoken. Instead of some creature from hell, he found something so much more terrifying.

Russia.

Prussia began to hyperventilate, mouth open like a fish to try and get some precious oxygen into his frantic lungs. He began to turn blue from lack of proper air; then, his eyes began rolling back…

Only to be snapped back into reality when a sharp British voice snapped, "Prussia? What're you doing here?"

Prussia turned around and practically flung himself into England's arms. Sobbing and whimpering, he clung to the confused man's shirt. After a moment, England glanced up to see Russia. Oh, he thought, that's why he's so terrified. Awkwardly patting Prussia's arm, England asked (Even though he knew exactly what was wrong, he felt it was the right thing to do) , "What's wrong?"

Prussia let out a wail that sounded pretty pathetic to even England, and sobbed, "I was walking around you're haunted house the evil bed was cursed to throw me off and it was all dark and scary and there were ghosts everywhere there were so many of them in a crowd and no one was there and I went downstairs and it was still dark and then hell spoke and there was the big scary man right theeeeeeeeere…" Prussia let out another pathetic wail.

Russia cocked his head curiously, regarding Prussia as though one would regard a bug under a microscope. He also had the expression that one had when they were deciding whether or not to fry the bug under the microscope…

Startled, England realized that Hawaii was still clutched firmly in Russia's arms, still passed out. The boy seemed unaware of what was going on around him; surprisingly enough, Hawaii wasn't bothered by Russia's coldness. In fact, he looked so peaceful it was almost painful.

"What is wrong with him, England?" Russia asked, honestly curious. England nearly shook his head in wonder; how could he not see that this was his doing? "He thought my house was haunted. He must've heard the states trampling around inside, and then couldn't see them and thought they were ghosts. Also, the house was dark. And you startled him a bit, sneaking up like that…" England trailed off. A bit. England scoffed in his head. The man is terrified of you! "But what I don't understand," England frowned, remembering, "What was that about a bed?"

Prussia let out another sob and just pressed himself deeper into England's chest. While he was old and used to this kind of drama (You see enough countries have breakdowns over the years and just get used to them) it still felt very awkward with this man. Prussia had always seemed fearless, and he wasn't ever superstitious… Maybe it was the pursuing fear of Russia?

"Wait a minute, I thought you weren't superstitious!" England jumped at the realization. Prussia had always scoffed about England's magic, instead calling it nonsense (well, those weren't exactly his words, but…) and going to do some other crazy thing instead. If England knew Prussia, it was that he didn't now and never had believed in ghosts.

Prussia wiped away his tears and growled, "That was so not-awesome of me." Then, he began ranting, still not answering any of England's questions. "I mean, come on! Freaking out and running to that stuffy old England? What kind of a man am I!" England felt a vein popping at the mention of, "stuffy old England". "I'm sorry, but you were the one bawling about the ghosts, Prussia!"

The silver-haired man paused, suddenly remembering something. "You won't tell West, will you? Or France? Or Spain? Or Hungary, or Austria, or anyone? Because that would be so not-awesome of you."

England gave him a dead-pan look. "Prussia… You know I'm probably going to use this as leverage against you in the future?"

Prussia swore in German.

* * *

Texas frowned quietly at the sound of the other states tramping around; quietly he considered going to see what was the matter. Instead, he shrugged and looked fondly back at his mom. He hadn't seen her in ages; the times when he managed to get the screen-hogs New York and Pennsylvania out of the control room it had been really boring. It was mostly America eating.

"You look good." He rumbled, looking up and down appreciatively at her young figure. He noted that she had lost a bit of weight; the swine flu[3] had obviously hit the southern country hard. Other than that, she was still the same beautiful, graceful, catlike woman she'd always been. Her beauty was dangerous though; black eyes that bore into you and stripped away everything but a shell.

She was one of the most amazing people he knew, and had ever known.

"As do you." She purred, her voice low and dangerous, a sultry sound. She was the epitome of sexiness; if she wasn't his mom he would've been head over heels for her. However he was left to call her his ultra-sexy, awesome mother. That wasn't a bad thing; once, when he'd gone to school and Mexico had picked him up, his friends had been drooling. Of course he told them to lay off his mom, but they never saw him after that; they'd all went back inside America's head before his second day. It sucked.

All the kids had gone to school at some point. Half of them had gotten suspended before the day ended, and two or three managed to get themselves expelled. It was actually pretty funny, Texas reflected. The three who had gotten expelled were Virginia, New York and New Hampshire. New York and New Hampshire were a given (Texas was actually quite surprised that New Jersey hadn't gotten expelled), but Virginia was a shock that had rippled through the states. Virginia was perhaps the sweetest one of them all, besides the fact he was a cross-dresser. Who could blame him though? His name sounded too much like "virgin", and Virginia acted a lot like a girl. He was innocent, sweet, kind, and a bit of a coward—in fact, he was a lot like the heroines in Japan's weird comic books that New York loved so much. So they were all shocked when Virginia was sent home, fuming mad. They managed to get one sentence out of him: "He fucking groped me!" And that was all it took to understand.

Virginia enforced personal space and child abuse laws with a passion; the boy had spent half his life getting groped by some of the more bored boy states. This made him absolutely hate anyone who groped him, resulting in extremely violent actions that would more than likely have killed a normal human being. The boy who had made the fatal mistake luckily wasn't too damaged, and Virginia had gone back to his sweet, innocent self. However the boy states had tucked the little tidbit into their brains: Virginia is getting much more violent when one attempts to grope him. Approach with extreme caution.

Texas had never attempted to grope Virginia himself, as he found it extremely rude (and he was straight enough to not attempt to get close to a boy). Also, he had been groped only once by Maine (The poor boy had spent too much time around France in his youth) and found it extremely unpleasant. Neither Maine nor anyone else attempted to grope Texas ever again. Texas made it quite clear how he felt about people groping him by taking a giant fist and pushing it into Maine. He wasn't conscious for a few days, but he ended up alright; only left with a bruised face, back, and ego.

"How has America been treating you?" Mexico asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. Texas tilted his head thoughtfully, remembering. "Well, Madre, we have an enormous living room to play in now, since Alaska and Hawaii came," Then Texas winced when he remembered the last time America had gotten drunk—it had been after WWII, after they had won. It wasn't as fun though, because Hawaii was still recovering from Pearl Harbor[4] and had flinched at every movement. All the states had been devastated when Hawaii was attacked—by the end of the day they were all calling for Japan's blood.

"The Supply Room takes care of most of our needs while we're in there—we get stuff for free, like video games and books and stuff." Texas could feel himself loosening up, as he always did around Mexico. Don't get him wrong, he loved his siblings, but the only three people he felt he could really loosen up around was Oklahoma (Oklahoma was a spunky, happy boy that loved Texas's company; they were really close), America, and Mexico. Otherwise he tended to be less chatty.

"Pennsylvania finally let some of the boy's into her bathroom—only the nice boys she says though. Apparently that includes me." He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers up your spine. "She also let California, Wisconsin, New Mexico, Montana, Arizona, Idaho, Delaware, Michigan, Hawaii, Maryland, Massachusetts, and Minnesota in. I bet she's regretting Hawaii though—with his grass skirts and all…" He let out another laugh. "Once, when New York got really bored he made us all go to where we would be on a map…he's so artistically oriented…"

Mexico smiled softly. "I would like to meet all of your siblings. I usually only see them in passing."

Texas blanched slightly. "I would…not recommend it. They have some…habits that you might find disturbing."

She only laughed, throwing her beautiful black hair back. "I think I can handle them, if they're anything like America. He's very simple, and wasn't much of a challenge." The Mexican woman's eyes glinted with a memory of something no one wanted to delve into. Texas shuddered.

**Hehe! Poor Texas…and poor Prussia! He's such a wimp. Don't worry; he'll be bad-ass soon. **

**[1] For those of you who don't know, this is an American children's rhyme. I'm too lazy to look up where it came from, but I know I sang it when I was just a shrimp. The chorus is like this:**

"**3 little monkey's jumping on the bed, **

**One fell off and broke his head!**

**The mama called the doctor and the doctor said,**

'**No more monkeys jumping on the bed!'"**

**And then you repeat the chorus with 2 little monkeys, and then one, and that's when you finish the song. **

**[2] I've never seen it, but Paranormal Activity is about the activity of ghosts in this one guy's home, but mostly it's just waiting around for something to happen, though I've heard it's really scary. I couldn't tell you. **

**[3] Swine flu, also known as H1N1. It's a type of flu that's pretty dangerous, and some people die from it. Maybe a year or two back there was an outbreak of the swine flu, though it's all cleared up now. Hit Mexico pretty hard. **

**[4] Pearl Harbor I'm sure you've heard of. Back when Hawaii still wasn't a state and had a military base for the US on it in WW2, Japan bombed the base, or Pearl Harbor. This bombing was the one that made us bomb Nagasaki and Hiroshima. **

**Oh, and the reason Hawaii was physically a state is because Hawaii really **_**wanted to be a state. **_**He had wanted to be a state for more than 20 years, making him physical. **

**I'm not sure if I should put a pairing in this, so…suggestions?**

**IceEckos12, out!**


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

**Warning: Two of the states get just a _bit _racist, but Penny puts them in their place, so... **

Spain peeked around the corner while France shifted from foot to foot behind him. His green eyes roamed the room, trying to spot anyone. After a moment, he beckoned with one hand. "The coast is clear, France." He hissed, still tearing the room apart with his eyes. "For now, though."

The two entered the room slowly, still unsure whether or not anyone was there. It was the kitchen, and it looked like it was used a lot. Little patches of flour dotted the counter, and some mystery liquid was splattered on the floor. There was even some unknown food left sitting on a plate, but it looked more like toxic sewage waste or something of the like. Other than that, the kitchen was lifeless.

France frowned, poking a finger into the strange dish. "What on earth was he trying to make…?" Spain asked, eyes widening when the food began to burn like acid on France's finger. France let out a pained hiss before rushing to the sink. "Whatever it was… it must have had some sort of acid in it…" Spain winced in sympathy as France's finger came away from the sink red.

"Does he actually eat food like this?" The Spanish man whispered, flinching slightly when what appeared to be a hand appeared from the food and splattered on the counter beside it. The two countries stared wide-eyed as the hand twisted slightly, seemed to "sense" the two nations, and lunged.

* * *

The states heard loud shrieking noises coming from upstairs and shuddered. What could be going on they didn't have a clue, but they really didn't want to know. They hoped it was England chasing away the BTT, but they couldn't be sure. Instead, they huddled in various hiding spots. Only the New New New trio stayed out.

The New New New trio was New Jersey, New Hampshire, and New York. They were the rowdiest of the states, and the ones who always got in trouble. The three never got along real well on the outside; mostly it just looked like they were doing the "New New New" thing because it sounded cool. In actually, they were the closest out of the states. All three had a sense of camaraderie; if one was in trouble, the first ones that would react would be the other two.

"This is like, so boring. We could _totally _take care of those idiots! With like, one hand tied behind our backs!" This was New Jersey. He was a bit like Poland; not the brightest bolt in the box, and spoke all girly-like. However he was quite an organized and diverse state; his per-capita income was third out of all of them, and he was the most densely populated state. Not only that, but he was also one of the most ethnically and religiously diverse in the U.S. He might've been a simpleton, but he was an important simpleton.

New Hampshire, you've already met; he was cocky and strong, and extremely independent. He was also the person most likely to react first, as he was first state to have his own constitution. He reflected his motto: "Live Free or Die". And that he did—he did whatever he wanted, when he wanted. While he was wild with his antics, his energy consumption was the lowest in the country, so while he talked big, it took a lot to get him to actually fight anything. Mostly he just swore, but if you got him into a battle, he was one of the most efficient there was. New Hampshire also had a deep love for his alcohol, but he almost never got any.

New York has already been explained, but let's go more into detail. New York was extremely tough and strong; he was the third most populated state. He was flashy and exuberant, and (surprisingly) had a love for anime and Broadway singing. His largest city—known as New York City, was the most populated city in the entire U.S. Since he had the largest African American population in the U.S., a lot of his culture came from them. New York was also an enormous trade state—it sent its products all over, including Canada, U.K., Switzerland, Israel and Hong Kong.

Despite his usual attempts to make himself look unworthy of further investigation, New York was the leading in communications, banking, and finance in the U.S. He had the largest stock exchange in the world by dollar volume. No matter how stupid New York acted, he was extremely intelligent and the ringleader of the New New New.

New York snorted. "Don't be an idiot, Jardín **(It didn't take me long to come up with this nickname—it's Spanish for "garden" (I hope). New Jersey's nickname is The Garden state, and he has the most Costa Rican's in the U.S. Costa Rica is a mostly Spanish speaking country, and Spanish for garden is jardín. See?)**" New York spat, causing the little state to recoil. "Those guys are hundreds of years older than us—maybe if we got everyone else to help us mob them we'd win, but otherwise we'd be screwed." He huffed at New Jersey and turned back to New Hampshire, who was lying lazily on the floor.

"Hey—Yorkie." Angrily New York twisted to see the person, but he already knew. Only one person would call him that.

"Hey, Nut-job **[1]." **New York hissed back, looking at Connecticut. The boy had a slightly Italian look; olive skin and delicate, fragile features. His eyes were like England's—round and green. His hair was blonde—almost exactly like America's. He was wearing typical engineering clothes, so involved in air transportation he was. All in all, he was probably one of the odder looking states. His strange combination of green, olive, and blonde was unnerving sometimes, but it was just the way he was. He was also a money lover—probably why he had the highest per capita income.

There were two reasons Connecticut and New York rubbed each other the wrong way: One, they were in such close proximity to each other that some of Southwestern Connecticut was actually part of the New York statistical area, or the Tri-State area. Second, New York was wild and excitable, and Connecticut was organized and controlled. Their personalities clashed horribly. New York was the only one who could ever rope Connecticut into an argument.

"If you don't want to get discovered, idiot, I'd hide. While I know your tiny brain can't possibly comprehend the enormity of our discovery, I will try to explain." The state smirked and crossed his arms smugly. "You see, if we get discovered, other countries will probably find ways to snatch us up and hold us ransom. They'll also know a weakness of Russia and Mexico—which is _so _hard to find." They both shuddered at that. If there was one thing that they'd ever agreed upon, it was that Russia, Mexico, and the BABONA was absolutely terrifying.

"Also, they'll claim that America has people—_many _people influencing his decisions, so they'll all say that America has too many representatives. They'll either take America out of the meetings entirely or say that America has less influence at meetings. So as you can see, it would be a very good idea to hide." Again with the smirk. "I hope you understood all that, with your puny brain and all."

New York scowled, equally annoyed that Connecticut's argument actually had some sense, as the insults. Rubbing his nose, he leapt up from his sitting position. New Hampshire lazily opened one eye to examine what his brother was riled about, only to find it was just Connecticut. He let out a loud sigh, muttered something about "fucking idiots interrupting my sleep," before closing his eyes again.

New Jersey looked up quickly, curious about what was happening, before groaning loudly. "Like, not again New York! Can't you like, be in the same room together without totally trashing the place?" The others complaints were ignored as Connecticut and New York faced each other, looking extremely annoyed. "I don't have a puny brain," New York growled angrily, "AND I can do whatever I like!"

Connecticut grinned mockingly. "Is that the best comeback you can come up with? I'm surprised. You're supposed to be the center for trade and all… maybe all that Chinese wisdom hasn't rubbed off on you after all!"

_Now _New York was annoyed. "First, I spend half my time in a frickin' _head,"_ He snarled, "And second, that's so _racist. _Not all Chinese are wise! Some should've been born blonde!"

Pennsylvania stifled an angry shriek and dropped from her hiding place, which was: the ceiling right above their heads.

The two swore loudly and scrambled away from Penny, obviously startled by her sudden appearance. The two had not expected their older sister to drop down from the ceiling—and if they did, they hadn't expected her to look so _mad. _

"You both are racist! You shouldn't be talking about something you don't know about! People from different countries are normal people, not foreign aliens, believe it or not! You two can't even look past your front door!" Pennsylvania rolled her eyes angrily. "If I hear another word about the subject you two will be confined to the bathrooms for a week!"

New York and Connecticut stared at Pennsylvania for a long while, not quite believing what she was saying. Finally, New York mumbled, "Does she mean…?"

Connecticut nodded, looking slightly horrified. "I think so."

So, shivering and whimpering at the memories that were resurfacing, the two quickly and obediently hurried to hiding places. New Jersey, lost without the main brain keeping them all in line, poked at New Hampshire (who hissed angrily and snapped at his fingers) and dragged them both off to a hiding place.

* * *

Mexico and Texas were startled by the sudden crash they heard coming from the kitchen, followed shortly by loud shrieks and coarse swearing. There were two voices, Spanish and French intermingling loudly as they spewed their choice swear words.

Mexico and Texas perked their ears to the Spanish voice, as it was a friendly language to them both. After deciphering most of it, they managed to conclude a few things: 1. there was a French and Spanish person in the house. 2. They were probably intruders. 3. They were in deep, serious trouble.

* * *

England, Prussia and Russia were still in the front hall when they heard the crash. Russia's head whipped up first, almost a second before it happened, as though he were psychic. Prussia just jumped at the noise, since he was already having a minor mental breakdown about England's scary house, and England immediately leapt into action. He was pretty sure what had happened—oh, why had he used magic while cooking again?

* * *

A large, sewage-y hand wrapped around France's waist, making him cry out in surprise. The man could already feel some of the acid working on the clothes as he was lifted slowly but surely into the air. Normally France would've been pleased with the thought of taking his clothes off, but he had immediately realized that as soon as the acid was finished with his clothes, it would start going for… other things. He was horrifically aware of the thin layer between the monster and his glorious body.

"S-Spain!" He gasped, flailing wildly. "H-Help me!"

Spain was staring in horror at France, mouth opening and closing like a grounded fish. It look as though he was about to have a mental breakdown. "How the hell did it get so big…?" He whispered, eyes the size of dinner plates. Finally he seemed to recover from his surprise. "Hold on Francis!" He shouted, looking for a weapon. "Stay there! I'll rescue you!"

France was a blur as he was shaken wildly in the air. "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I'm n-n-n-n-n-not g-g-g-g-g-g-g-going a-a-a-a-a-a-anywhere!"

Spain twirled around; cursing England's mutated food and his inability to help his friend. Come on! He'd been better prepared when he had gone looking for Romano** [6]**! Finally deciding that he'd have to go to drastic measures, he pulled an enormous ax out of nowhere and began flipping, stopping to rest in a ready position.

* * *

Mexico and Texas were the first to reach the kitchen.

They froze at what they saw.

France was being thrown mercilessly around the room, nearly hitting the ceiling on several occasions. Spain was on the ground, holding a giant kick-ass ax and in a really awesome looking position, close to the floor. He was obviously trying to rescue France, as the other country was trapped in an enormous hand.

That was probably the weirdest thing. There was a giant hand in the kitchen, coming from a large pile of toxic sewage-like material. The pile of… well, whatever it was, it was huge—and growing fast. Already half the counter was under siege.

Mexico leapt forward to help Spain—she still felt a strong connection to him; he had raised her, cared for her, loved her… while it was well known she often seduced other countries and took them to her bed, Mexico had and always would love Spain. "Stay back, hijo!" She shouted at Texas as he stood unsurely in the doorway. He nodded, realizing that this was one battle he could not win. "Be careful!" He yelled over the screaming and crashing.

As he moved, three blurs rushed past him; his eyes caught red eyes, and then something was shoved unceremoniously in his arms. He landed on the ground with a _whuff! _Then, an English voice hissed into his ear, _"They're in the basement!" _before it ended. Texas paused, still cradling Hawaii in his arms, before turning tail and running towards the basement.

Prussia, Russia, and England all stood beside Mexico, who had quickly joined Spain and was now sporting a machine gun. She was just as beautiful, graceful and deadly as they remembered her.

"What's going on?" England shouted at Spain.

"A food on the counter just attacked Francis! It appears to have acidic qualities!" He roared over the noise.

Then, Prussia, Spain, Mexico and Russia all turned to stare at their bushy-browed friend, all realizing whose house this was and who could also create unreal apparitions.

"_What the fuck did you do?" _Prussia shrieked angrily at England, flailing his arms fiercely in the air.

"I… the stove wouldn't light! I had to use magic to light it!"

"Didn't Italy say you can't use magic to create food? It's the food that creates the fucking magic!"

England growled. "There's nothing I can do about it now! Just shut up and help me fight this damn thing!"

Prussia turned, locking eyes with the giant fist thrashing France around. He knew that if they didn't save him soon, bad things might happen.

Then, to everyone's horror, the monster grew—and grew—and grew—and eyes formed—and a mouth formed—and another hand—

**MUHAHAHAHAHAHA! Cliff hanger! **

**I bet you didn't see the food monster coming. I basically just pulled that out of my butt. I thought it was kind of funny, but I have a twisted sense of humor, so~**

**I ACTUALLY DID SOME RESEARCH ON THIS! Everything that I say about the states here is true. At first I was just going off of stereotypes, but now I'm actually going to look into it. I'm so proud of myself! **

**[1] Connecticut's nickname is the Nutmeg state, and no one knows why, since Connecticut doesn't really produce nutmeg… ^^'. **

**This is the last chapter I typed out before I reposted all the chapters, so after this it'll be new material. I hope you enjoy it! **

**IceEckos12 **


	16. Chapter 15

**No own APH.**

Canada watched the countries battle the food monster, feeling extremely bored. Normally he'd go and try to help them; he was kind and caring, even though he was a bit shy. Also, though many countries didn't know it, Canada had some of America's strength; he was, after all, much bigger, had lots of resources and played hockey (had to count for something, right?). He _could've _helped, but…he had been the first person into the kitchen after hearing the noises, and had called out that he would help Spain. Spain hadn't heard him, or was ignoring him, or _something, _and he didn't even notice that Canada was in the kitchen preparing to help.

So Canada had flopped onto the floor, uncaring, watching as the other nations gathered into the room and took out their respective weapons. Spain and his ax; Mexico and her machine gun; England and his book of magical spells, Prussia with his sword, and Russia with his pipe. They actually looked pretty cool, Canada admitted, taking a piece of maple-covered popcorn from his popcorn bowl. If you just added some epic music in the background…he sighed and his hand dove back into the popcorn bowl. _That's _when he noticed a presence that hadn't been there before.

He turned and saw a girl (obviously a state) sitting next to him on the floor, hand already inching towards his popcorn bowl. It was strange, because he hadn't noticed her before, and was already wondering why she was here when she should've been in the basement. When he caught her eye, he understood.

They both understood what it was like to be forgotten, to be ignored or something thought of as a creepy chill up a spine; they were kindred spirits wanting just once not to be ignored (and not at some crazy moment where they could be involved in a crazy scheme; a time where they could stand up and _shine, _really be noticed). The two blinked at each other, and Canada smiled softly.

"Hello."

"Hi, Uncle Matthew. I'm Delaware."

It was the start of a beautiful friendship. **(A/N When I was reading the reviews one day I spotted a comment that said something about Delaware being forgotten a lot. It may not be true, but I think it'd be pretty cute to have something like this.)**

* * *

"Mexico?" Spain shouted, looking at his former colony with an odd look on his face. "What're you doing here?"

Mexico shook her long, black hair. "We'll talk later, España!"

England decided to take charge. "You guys need to cover me! I just need a few minutes!"

Russia nodded and stepped forward, the pipe in one hand and a creepy smile planted on his face. "First rule." Hu muttered. "Intimidation." He stepped in front of the food monster, creepy smile still on his face, and began to laugh—or _kolkolkol _creepily, exuding a black, evil aura. "Should result in temporary paralysis." Then he approached the food monster. "Second rule. Attack." With lightning speed, Russia slammed his pipe through the monster's 'arm', chopping it off. The food monster let out a roar of pain, before the arm started regenerating.

"SOMEONE CUT ME DOWN ALREADY!" France shrieked, still feeling the acid eating through his clothing.

"Third rule." Russia muttered one last time. "Have backup."

Spain let out a battle cry and leapt forward (unconsciously following Russia's rule of thumb) wielding his enormous ax as though it were weightless, the beautiful metal shining menacingly in the kitchen light. It glinted as it tore a hole right down the center of the monster. Mexico took advantage of its temporary weakness and began shooting bullets towards the arm that held France, and watched as the hand tumbled to the ground, France struggling to get out. Prussia helped him with his sword, while Russia held of the monster.

"I got it!" England suddenly shouted, having been flipping fervently through his oversized spell book. He looked up fervently at the people in front of him. "Just five more minutes and the spell will be done!"

They nodded, France looking somewhat ruffled while adjusting the suddenly thinner clothing. He pulled a silver sword from his belt (which luckily hadn't been damaged) and said in his shaken voice, "We'll give you that time, and more, Angleterre."

England nodded at France. "Thanks."

* * *

To say the states were bored was an understatement.

To say the states were bored out of their minds ready to start ripping out their hair in large, painful clumps was also an understatement.

While they say wisdom comes with age (as does patience); while the states are technically 300 years old (and younger), they have the mentality of teenagers and children. These children are immortal, and have spent most of their lives in an uncomfortable room with close contact with the same people for all of their lives. So were they bored? Yes. Especially since upstairs it sounded like the countries were having a super badass fight. Some of the states were also feeling particularly useless, since most of them were talented with weapons or were black-belts in at least 2 different arts (hey, the states had nothing better to do!).

"So bored…" Massachusetts muttered, glancing around at the rest of the states. "Hmm…Who wants to play Truth or Dare?" He asked finally, done with all the people sulking in the corners.

"I'll do it!" Oregon shouted, ever cheerful.

"I'll play…" California said, raising a lazy hand.

The rest of the states slowly joined in, so bored they were willing to do anything just to entertain themselves.

"I'll go first, since it was my idea." Massachusetts said, and examined the expectant states carefully. "Texas, truth or dare?"

* * *

France lunged forward with his silver sword, effectively spearing it right down the middle. He was tired, sweaty, exhausted, and really hoping that England would hurry up with his stupid spell. Ducking under a swipe aimed for his head, France ripped through the hand as Russia brought his pipe down onto the food monster's head. Spain swung his ax at the monsters middle, gouging out a hole before retreating. Mexico was still shooting up its entire body, somehow not running out of ammunition.

"ENGLAND!" France roared, knowing they'd been there for more than five minutes.

"I know, one moment!" England squeaked back, and that was when France realized that the island country had donned a green cloak. France rolled his eyes before turning back to the problem at hand, just in time to slash through a tail that had been aimed for his feet.

Wait.

A tail?

England rushed forward, pushing the other countries aside and raised his hands high, a glowing light surrounding him eerily. The lights began flashing, and even the monster seemed confused, backing away slightly from the spectacle. Then he began chanting. The lights and the glowing was creepy enough, but even Russia looked slightly disturbed when England's deep voice began to chant, saying strange words that had no meaning to the others.

Prussia blocked the tail that came for England, the monster finally realizing what the small human was trying to do in front of him. It let out a roar, spattering the group with rotten food, and attacked with a renewed vigor. England paused only for a moment, before continuing as though nothing had happened. The other nations were now hard-pressed to block the attacks that came for England; Spain, Prussia, Russia and France slashing, and Mexico in the corner of the room, still shooting rapid shots at anything that came close to England that the others couldn't block.

Finally, England finished. The room exploded in a flash of white light, filled with the echoes of England's strange chanting. The monster screamed and exploded, showering the nations and the rest of the kitchen in a spray of burnt, acidic food.

That's when they all turned to England, a murderous expression implanted on all of their faces, except for Russia, who just smiled even creepier than usual.

"What the _hell _were you thinking?" Prussia shouted the same time Mexico yelled, "What the hell were you _doing?" _the same time France yelled, "You idiot!" the same time Russia started _kolkolkolkol-ing, _brandishing his pipe in front of him with a menacing air.

"That stove wouldn't start, okay?" England shouted, knowing that he was on thin ice right now. "I had to use magic to light the stove, but it didn't come out the way I wanted it too…"

France rolled his eyes, while Mexico and Spain glared at England and began muttering to each other in Spanish. Prussia threw up his hands, obviously done with the subject, before pausing. "Hey, Russia."

Said country looked up at Prussia (who shivered and paled slightly) and asked quietly, "Da?"

"Who was that kid you were carrying around?" Prussia tilted his head, wondering why the rest of the countries got very still when he said that.

"What…child?" Russia asked, his voice suddenly cold.

Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, Prussia demanded, "Don't play dumb! I saw you carrying around that kid—who was he?"

Russia's eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but he didn't answer.

"And—there was the other kid on the floor! With the big hat!" He glared at Russia, and suddenly noticed England's and Mexico's pale look (and if anyone had been looking closely, they would've seen to people on the other side of the room who were both very still). "You guys know something about this, don't you!"

England looked at Russia; Russia looked at Mexico; Mexico raised her slim hands up and shook her head. "Not my problem, amigos."

England glanced at Prussia again, and sighed. "Well…"

**Ooo, will Prussia figure it out? Or will they somehow keep America's secret—well, a secret? **

**Oh, and if something's historically inaccurate, please tell me (for instance, I know that Hawaii wasn't a state at the same time as Pearl Harbor happened, but I explained that.) At the bottom, you'll find a major rant. Ignore if you don't like reading stuff like that, but read it if you like mindless rants. I overreacted and threw a hissy fit, yes, but it was really fun.**

**IceEckos12 **

**Warning: Rant coming! You can ignore it if you like. **

**REAL History Buff writes: This is a pretty half-assed attempt at a states fic. You really need to learn some history first. I recomend Highschool, little girl.**

**Okay, okay, okay. So normally, I wouldn't be posting this early, but I'm super excited. Why? I got my first hate review! *Streamers and balloons going everywhere* I've never gotten one before! And I have to admit, I laughed. It was so cute! *Giggles* The person was spouting some crap about how I need to brush up on my history. While I admit it's not the most historically accurate story, most of the stories on this website aren't very historically accurate. As the person mentioned, I'm a 'little girl', so shouldn't you be complaining to the people who **_**have **_**got to high school? (Suddenly is not so amused) Don't you have anything better to do than beat up on poor, defenseless writers? Go pick on someone your own size, jerk.**

**And *ahem* **_**REAL **_**History Buff? **_**Don't **_**say this is a half-assed attempt at a states story. That was a half-assed attempt at a flame review. Can't you give me anything better to work with? I thought hate-reviews were supposed to hurt people's feelings, not make them laugh! Though if you do post another hate-review, I won't be so cheerful. I'm not about to bow down to some guy who had a hissy-fit because he saw something he knew was going to be there. You **_**knew **_**this would be historically inaccurate, and don't lie and say you didn't! Why did you even post the goddamn thing? Did your brain shrivel up into mush and ooze out your ears or something? If you hate it so much, why did you even read up to the fifteenth chapter? **

**Little girl? **_**Little **_**girl? Yes, I may be younger than you, goddammit, but I still bite! You're a useless, thick-skulled asshole who preys on younger and unskilled writers, trying to tear them down with stupid words! Grow a pair, you whiny ass!**

**P.S.: I recommend a spelling class. Recommend is spelled with two m's. **

**However I will not deny it. This story is not historically accurate. Maybe if you'd told me **_**nicely, **_**I wouldn't have reacted so strongly. Plus, it' real unlucky that you chose this week to have a hissy fit. I've been looking for an excuse to rant all week. That's why I overreacted; also you called me little girl, which I absolutely despise being called. Unlucky for you. Bad choice in words, I guess. Next time, don't flame people. It's not nice…should I recommend a manners class, too?**

**Am I overreacting? Yes. Am I having fun with it? Yes. Just a warning to you all: don't flame me. Politely criticize. **

**Oh! Just realized something. If you send hate-reviews to me, I won't post earlier. I was just so excited that I got one that I had to post! **

**Okay, done. Sorry you had to see that!**


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I'm starting to get bored with this disclaimer stuff. No. Own. APH!**

"Well, um…" England looked at Russia with pleading eyes, hoping he would come to his rescue. "Er…"

"It's America's pity project." A quiet voice said from the corner of the room, causing everyone to jump. They all turned, to face…America? No, his hair was slightly curlier, and his eyes were more of a violet color…so who exactly was the person?

Noticing their confused looks, the boy sighed. "My name is Canada." Silence. "America's brother?" Confused looks. Throwing up his hands in annoyance, Canada whipped out a map, flipped it open and pointed to the big land mass over America. "This Canada! Second largest nation in the world?"

"Oh…" Everyone said, recognition flaring briefly into their eyes.

"But…what was that about the kids?" Prussia asked, crossing his arms and raising a silvery eyebrow.

"Every year America takes on a pity project. This time he took orphans into this home and gave them a taste of luxury. America actually sent the kids to England for vacation, but since he's a little busy right now he had England take care of them."

Dead silence followed the statement (while no one noticed a little shadow slipping out of the kitchen and down the stairs), and Russia and England nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to Canada the secret was safe.

"So…can I meet them?" Prussia asked, beginning to grin evilly.

"I'll go get them. They trust me." Canada replied, already beginning to exit the kitchen.

"A little wider…wider…here, put this in there…yeah, that's it…"

"You know, this would sound really _wrong _to anyone who couldn't see what was going on?"

Illinois looked up, cheese stick in one hand, a strange metal tool in the other, holding open Wisconsin's mouth that was filled nearly to the brim with cheese. His watery blue eyes found Illinois's face, and he made a strange noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, hush, Wis." She muttered, feeding the cheese stick into his mouth before letting it snap shut.

"Alright, your turn, Wis." Illinois prompted, watching as he slowly chewed the 30 pieces of cheese that he'd been dared to eat all at once.

"Nm lslk t' drfsh eshes." He said after a minute of chewing.

"He said 'I'd like to dare Texas.'" Illinois translated, looking over at the giant state, who'd joined them a little earlier.

"Mhmm?" Texas asked, deep chocolate brown eyes staring at Wisconsin as he held up a finger and gulped down the last bits of cheese.

"Truth or dare?" He asked.

"Truth." Texas replied softly, blinking slightly when his brother Oklahoma tugged off his hat and set it on his own head.

"What happened up there?"

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing to pay attention, all obviously curious about it as well. Texas shifted uncomfortably under their penetrating gazes, before beginning the story in his dark, low rumble. "Well…me 'n Mexico heard this rumbly noise in the kitchen and went to go check it out. It was a food monster, that had France clutched in one hand." The other states gasped, some looking disbelieving, some looking shocked. "England, Prussia, and Russia came in, and he gave me Hawaii and told me you guys were down here. That's all."

"Woah, are you _serious?" _New York asked, looking excited.

Penny shook her head sharply. "Obviously not, New York. Texas, I thought you were better than that, telling the little kids stupid stories!"

"It's true, I swear." Texas looked at Penny, eyes begging her to believe him.

Penny was saved from answering by soft footsteps coming down the stairs, causing all the states to run to hiding places, Alaska holding Hawaii in her pale hands and Texas following Oklahoma quietly. Pennsylvania was the last one to hide, leaping up onto the ceiling with a grunt. When the person on the stairs arrived in the basement, he was greeted with 53 different stares, though he was unaware of a single one.

"That's funny, I swear they were down here…" Canada muttered, looking around for the elusive states. "It's funny, since there are fifty of them. How do you move fifty states without a sound…?"

He was interrupted from his musings by Penny dropping from the ceiling in front of him, eliciting a small, high pitched squeak from his mouth. "P-P-P-Pennsylvania?"

"Sorry to startle you, Uncle Matt!" She chirped at him, beaming widely at his mildly terrified face. His face became even paler when the rest of the states seemed to melt from walls, pop up from boxes, or even walk out of the fridge, in Alaska and Hawaii's case. The states always had a habit of popping out of nowhere, Matthew realized, and smiled slightly.

"So what's up, Uncle Mattie?" New York asked, smirking slightly at Canada's white face.

"Well…Prussia saw Hawaii and Texas, so I told him you were America's pity project. You're all a bunch of orphans, and America felt really bad for you guys and decided to give you a little time in luxury. He had to step out for business, so he's out right now. D.C., stay downstairs, would you? The rest of you, act shy and a little scared of the nations you don't know. 'Kay?"

The states looked mostly distressed, turning to each other in fear and anxiety. While they acted friendly and loved people, they were terrified of society. Living in someone's head did that to you. They'd seen all the horrible things in the world, and they'd seen the dark side of everything, and were protected from facing it behind a screen. What if they were discovered? What would happen then?

New York broke away from the rest of the group and looked at the rest of the whispering states with a determined look in his green eyes. "I know you're all scared." He said, earning silence. "I know that you're all frightened about what'll happen, but we can't hide anymore. We're over a hundred, people! Get it together! We _outnumber _them! They should be scared of us!" The other states looked at their older brother in slight awe, before New Jersey shouted, "Yeah!" and was shortly followed by the rest of the states.

"To the future!" New York shouted, fist raised up in victory as they all tramped up the stairs.

Matthew shuddered at the sight, suddenly realizing, with a thrill of fear, that the United States had been unleashed upon the world.

_Aw, crap. _

"Uh…wow." Prussia said as he stared at the enormous group of kids in front of him. "So you're all…siblings?"

"Adopted siblings." A tall girl with a tight bun and a long dress said quickly, blinking at him with wide eyes.

"Yeah. No way could I be related to most of you idiots." A boy a with a black hat and green eyes said, nudging a short boy next to him. Said boy glanced lazily up at him, and snarled a few curses before rolling his eyes and looking away.

"How many of you are there?" France asked dumbly, gaping at the children.

"52." Was the reply.

"Holy—Alfred is very…generous." Spain said, mouth twitching in surprise.

"Yeah, he's cool." The boy shrugged, before stepping aside when he felt a small tap on his shoulder.

It was a short, sun-tanned boy with curly brown hair and gleaming blue eyes, with a funny cowlick that resembled America's. His hair was streaked, as though he'd been out in the sun for a long time and it was just starting to bleach it. He wore shorts and a t-shirt, and had sunglasses perched on the top of his curly head. The boy's expression was almost lazy, with a spark on interest, and his mouth widened into a grin.

"_Hola! Quién eres?" _The boy chirped happily, seeming almost giddy.

"_Hola!" _Spain replied, widening his eyes in surprise and delight. "_¿Nos conocemos? Soy Antonio!" _How peculiar. The boy seemed…almost familiar.

"_No, no nos hemos encontrado." _His smile seemed to fade a little, before he went back to his smooth, chirping Spanish. _"Estoy Raymundo!" _

"_Encantado de conocerte!" _Spain laughed, enjoying his conversation with the boy. Honestly, it'd been such a long time since he'd spoken to someone in his native language. He'd been hanging around France too much. Now, why was the kid so familiar…? Something about him…Oh! He looked just like that little colony he'd had—Florida! Oh, they looked exactly the same! _How cute! _He thought.

"_Me acuerdo de alguien que se veía como tú!" _Spain couldn't help but gush; still not able to get over how similar his former colony and Raymundo looked. _"Qué lindo!"_

The boy froze, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks, and said softly, _"G-Gracias." _

"Stop speaking in that language!" The girl with the tight bun scolded. "Not all of us can understand you."

"_Vous idiots." _A girl muttered, and they looked over to see a Goth girl in a Lolita style dress, carting around a lacy black umbrella and a black bonnet. Long stockings covered the bottom of her legs up to her knees, and a big pink bow surrounded her waist. Her hair was up in little ringlets, and her lips were in a pouty expression.

"_Français, chéri?" _France purred, smiling and stroking his beard. _"Enchanté."_

"Okay, okay! Enough with the foreign languages!" The kid—the black haired one barked.

"_Was, was? Niemand spricht Deutsch?"_ Prussia growled, obviously feeling left out. _"Du ... du ... das tut weh meine Gefühle! _So not awesome!_"_

"_Die meisten von uns sprechen Deutsch." _The girl with the tight bun rolled her eyes, the harsh language easily rolling off her tongue. _"Gehen Sie nicht davon, du weißt alles."_

There was a long, awkward silence, before England clapped his hands together and caused some soft blushes and uncomfortable coughs. "Well, why don't we all have dinner?"

"I'm cooking!" The Lolita-Goth girl raised her hand, along with the tall boy with the cowboy hat and a short kid who was gnawing a potato atop a much taller kid's head.

England looked mildly disappointed. "But…"

"No. Dude, your cooking sucks." The boy—he _really _needed to know his name—growled out, before grabbing England's collar. He hissed something into England's ear (he turned a light shade of embarrassed pink) before turning back to the rest of the states. "Now, let's start with names."

"I'm…Luke. Lucas. Whatever." Ah, so the boy with the beret's name was Lucas.

"I'm Penny." The girl with the tight-bun said, earning a few giggles from the other kids.

"Raymundo." The tanned boy said again, grinning at Spain with an awfully familiar grin on his face. Really, it must be a crime to look so much like his adorable little brother Florida!

"Louise." The Goth-Lolita girl growled, already on her way to the kitchen.

"My nickname is Tex." The boy with the cowboy hat rumbled, earning a few more laughs from the other kids. Really, what was so funny about their names?

"He's Adam." The tall boy carrying the shrimp gnawing on a potato said, gesturing towards the unnatural weight. "I'm Martin."

"I'm Joan." A little—was that a girl, or a boy? Anyway, the person with the overalls and short brown hair grinned, before following the others into the kitchen.

"Um…Max. I'm Max." A short pudgy boy squeaked, following his friend.

"I'm…" A very tall girl carrying the kid he'd seen earlier frowned softly, looking freakily like Russia. "Sarah." Most of the other kids snorted loudly. "This is Renn." Then she sat back into her chair, looking put out.

"I'm—" Then there was a loud crash, and two kids tumbled onto the floor on the carpet, scratching and kicking at each other's faces.

"Southern whore!"

"Northern bastard!"

"Bitch!"

"Ass!"

"Fuck you!"

"Sorry, you're not my type, dickhead."

"Not your—"

The two froze on the floor, suddenly aware of the many horrified and surprised eyes on them at that exact moment. They untangled themselves from each other, sent each other a _I'll-get-you-later _look, before blushing and rubbing their necks.

"Louis." Penny said, pointing towards the boy. "Belle." She said, pointing towards the girl. "Get your sorry—I mean, get over here." Penny growled, grabbing the two squabbling kids' ears and dragging them into the other room and shutting the door. Though the words were unintelligible, the others still heard the shrieking and shouting. There was a pause of silence, and then the two—Louis and Belle—walked out, looking properly ashamed, Penny right behind them.

"And stay there until you two can behave!" Penny shouted as they trudged down the basement stairs.

"Well, that was a little excitement we weren't prepared for."

Spain nodded. "What is _with _those two?"

"Natural born enemies." Penny shrugged, and for a moment Spain actually believed it. Then, he turned to Raymundo, who was quickly becoming his favorite. "Alright, take me to this kitchen! Let's see if we have any tomatoes!"

Raymundo grinned, and chirped, _"Sí señor, jefe, señor!"_

Spain froze. There was only one person who'd ever said that to him, only one person in his lifetime. It wasn't Romano—Romano just swore at him loudly, cute as he was—Mexico would smile politely, swear at him and then do what he wanted, but only one person would jump at the chance to do something nice for him. That person was Florida, bless the little colony's soul, it was the worst decision he'd ever made to get rid of him. So he couldn't help it when he gasped, "F-Florida?"

And that was what created the uproar.

**Hey, hey, hey! New chapter coming your way! **

**Oh God, I sound like Killer Bee. Ignore that comment. **

**So Spain figures it out—or at least figures out that Ray is Florida. The rest will follow, hm?**

**Ciao!**

**до свидания!**

**კარგი****ნახვამდის! (Georgian—check out the writing!)**

**さよなら****!**

**IceEckos12**


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: No own APH.**

Utah wasn't noticed that often.

He wasn't like Delaware and Canada, where you couldn't see them and even if you did no one would remember your name. No, it was like… if he was quiet, he could be in the center of a secret conversation and no one would notice him until he piped up. Honestly Utah didn't mind it; you couldn't imagine how funny it was when in the middle of a conversation he'd say, "Hi!" And the two who were talking would squeak loudly and say, "AH! Utah, when did you get here?"

There were times when Utah hated not being noticed though, as much as he enjoyed scaring people out of their wits. For instance, whenever he was talking to two other people and the other two would suddenly start speaking to just each other, Utah forgotten, fuming on the side. Also when he was in the big crowd all together and they were panicking; he'd be the last person they'd remember.

Like now.

Utah tried to run as the rest of the states scattered, but kept being thrown back by some panicky sibling. Finally he lunged for the door to the basement and slammed it shut, slowly sinking down on the first step. Yes, there was a big problem with being forgotten in a stampede, Utah realized.

Wyoming opened the door and looked down, surprised at his favorite brother. "Utah? What happened to you?"

Utah just gave him a half-hearted glare.

At the bottom of the stairs, D.C. hovered with one hand on the railing and looked up. "What's going on up there?" He asked and shifted slightly.

"Spain recognized Florida or something." Utah answered, starting when Wyoming let out a soft yell because another state—Colorado crashed into him.

"Whooops, sorry bro." Colorado rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as Wyoming glared at him.

Colorado, Utah and Wyoming were all very close as brothers, and they all had a lot in common. They all loved hiking and mountain climbing, and they all had a slight fetish for potatoes (this meant that they often got in a lot of disputes with Idaho).

Colorado was just goofy; there was nothing else to it. He wasn't that tall, and he wasn't that short, though he was very muscly and sturdy. He always wore big black hiking boots with brightly colored laces that changed day to day, and he had on a hard hat. His blonde hair was long and tied into a short ponytail, and his blue eyes shone behind thing, stylish glasses.

Wyoming was tall and stringy, like a bean stalk, though he had strength you didn't think he could have. He was always serious and very smart (being the brain of his other two siblings), and wore a scholar's cap for some reason that the other states could not comprehend. Adorning his feet were two very plain brown hiking boots, and he had big blue eyes and blonde hair.

Utah very short and very thin, though he was the strongest of the three, and had a decent brain on his shoulders. Unlike his brothers he had no hat, and simply let his very curly blonde hair flap in the wind. He was soft-spoken and easily looked over (which made him a little annoyed) and he was the only state besides the Dakota's who went barefoot.

"Just shut the door, I don't want them coming in here." Wyoming snapped, looking out nervously as though the BTT would just hop out of nowhere.

"Alright, alright, don't get your pants in a knot." Colorado whined, carefully closing the door—only to have it thrown open again.

They all let out a sigh of relief when they saw it was only England, who blinked at the three on the stairs and then glanced down at D.C. "Is anyone else down here?"

A soft voice called out, making the other four jump. "Yes, I'm down here." At the others confused looks, he sighed. "Delaware?"

"You all need to come back here." England said tersely. "You're not going to get anywhere if you hide. We just need to clear things up."

Slowly the states began to go upstairs as though performing a death march, looking back every few seconds wistfully.

England glanced back to make sure the four states were following him before he said, "I need to go find everyone else. Just go to the living room."

* * *

England stood in front of a glaring New York, looking miffed. "Weren't you the one who spurred your brothers and sisters on?" He growled, mouth twitching. "Come downstairs and face it like a man!"

New York simply glared at him harder, still attached the air duct about 10 feet above his head.

England stared into the state's gaze, holding his ground, when he suddenly realized something. He'd _seen _those eyes before…

"_H-hey! Slow down, you could hurt yourself!" England turned slightly towards the voice, watching as a little black haired boy ran across the clearing, closely followed by his own colony, America. _

_The child suddenly tripped and flew through the air, tumbling head over heels and landing with a mighty thump, feet over his head and tears beginning to well up in his bright green eyes. _

"_C'mere." America crooned, holding his arms the 3-year-old. America looked roughly 5 in human years, and England found it a strange sight, however cute. _

_The boy sniffed slightly and ran over to America, throwing his arms around his waist and beginning to wail. America gently rubbed one of his tears away, smiling softly at the child as he cried. "Now where does it hurt?" He asked._

_The boy sniffed and showed him a scraped ankle._

"_C'mon, we gotta go wash it off." America turned around and bent down, offering his back to the boy. The child seemed to know what to do, because he instantly clambered onto the older child's back and put his head in America's hair. _

_England followed them, and was shocked when he saw even more 3 year olds running for his colony. "Papa!" One of the girls called in a garbled voice. "Papa, papa, papa! He bein' a meanie to Rhode!" _

_America frowned and ruffled the girl's hair, and she giggled. Then he offered his hand to the shortest child, a little girl and England was afraid she might be deformed, since she was so short. The girl sniffled and stumbled over to Alfred hugging him as best as she could (since the boy had fallen asleep on America's back)._

"_Alfred?"_

_America gave a start and turned, the other children crowding behind him. He flung his hands in front of them, as though to comfort or protect them, before speaking. "Yes?"_

_England was slightly hurt that America didn't trust him. "Who are these children?"_

"_We're—" The girl began, before America cut her off. "Just some orphans I picked up off the street." He growled, and the little girl squeaked and huddled closer to America._

_The little black-haired boy slowly woke up, blinking blearily and rubbing the tears in his eyes away. Then his eyes caught England's, and they bright green orbs turned into a deathly, chilling glare. _

"I…I remember you!" England said, blinking in surprise. "You were that little boy! You scraped your ankle!"

New York paused, looking confused. "What the hell do you mean?"

England closed his eyes, turning the memory over and over again in his head, going over the details. The boy with the black hair was most certainly New York…the short kid was Rhode Island…the other girl was Penny….And...There'd been New Jersey…

"It's…nothing." England shrugged him off. "We need to work this out, New York. You can't keep hiding."

New York bit his lip, looking at England with a strange expression on his face. Finally, he slowly crept down the wall (rather like Spiderman) and rested at England's feet.

England didn't know it then, but that was the turning point for the relationship between him and New York.

* * *

It had taken a while—a _very _long while—before England managed to gather all the states in the living room, with the other countries looking bemusedly at them all, except for Canada and Russia. Spain looked especially unsettled, probably because it sent him down memory lane—something no country like to do. Too many bad memories.

England glanced over the states, making sure they were all there (and was slightly dissatisfied to notice that D.C. wasn't in the room. However it couldn't be helped; D.C. was probably afraid to send the rest of the states away.) and nodded.

"Why is Florida here?" Spain asked suddenly, turning his gaze on the former colony, who quickly averted his eyes and stared at the ground.

"Well…" England murmured, looking between the states and the other countries. "I suppose… I should start at the beginning."

Taking a deep breath, England opened his mouth. "See, it all started when I took America out drinking…"

**OOOO! The secret! Is! OUT! The story is more than halfway over! Thanks for sticking with the story so far! **

**IceEckos12**


	19. Omake 2

**Disclaimer: I no own APH.**

* * *

_1733_

America stared in surprise.

14 tiny children surrounded him, all around the age of about…two? Maybe three?

They all stared back at America, looking just as surprised and maybe even a little…lost.

The oldest child, a small, girlish boy, carried the youngest in his arms, an adorable tanned girl who stared around at everyone with bright eyes and a toothy grin. Standing next to him was a tall brown haired girl with short hair whose fingers were latched with the child next to her, a black haired, green eyed child who had a slightly devious look to him. On the ground directly behind the four were two blonde twins, who were examining their surroundings curiously while staying as close to each other as they could. A brown haired boy was glaring at the black haired child a distance away, while an extremely short girl beside him fumed angrily. Propped against the tree that shaded them all were two boys, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and the larger one had his arm around the smaller boy's shoulders. Two other boys were looking up at America with big blue and green eyes, their pudgy faces pinched up with curiosity. Another boy had clambered onto America's back, and the final child was holding onto America's hand while sucking on his thumb.

"Papa?" The oldest child—Virginia, was it? Asked.

"Yes?" America replied dumbly.

Uncomfortable shifting.

"Hungry?" America heard in his ear, and turned slightly to look at the boy who was sitting on his back. It was his capital, Philadelphia, who was a miniature version of himself, which was actually kind of creepy, in his opinion.

Alas, it was _his_ creepy child.

The other colonies looked up hopefully, obviously all of them hungering for something to eat. America did some more uncomfortable shifting, before he turned around and gestured for them all to follow. "C'mon, we got some food over here."

As America began taking all the food from the cupboard, his small five year old hands trembling as they grasped bread and cheese and the sort, he wondered how he'd gotten fourteen kids in the first place. Certainly not the normal way (America unconsciously blushed), since he'd never had…it…in his life with anyone (And yes, he did know about _that. _He was over thirty years old, he wasn't that clueless!). So how?

And why?

He passed around the bread, cheese, and apples, watching them all in stunned silence as they ate. Virginia was helping the youngest one, Georgia, eat, though she wasn't helping much as she tossed her tiny fists everywhere and let out loud keening noises. Almost as though in a dream, America slowly got up and walked towards his crying…oh, he couldn't say it yet, not even think it! But he took Georgia in his arms and slowly coaxed the bit of cheese into her small mouth, smiling softly when she looked up and beamed up at him.

He knew he probably should've sent England a letter as soon as he saw the fourteen dirty children and learned what they were, but for some reason…he couldn't. For some reason, every time he even toyed with the thought, he recoiled; he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. _Besides, _America reasoned with himself. _England has enough to worry about; I'm his colony, and these…these're _my _colonies. _

Not until much later did America realized that was the first sign of rebellion he showed.

* * *

_1745_

"What's the matter, Rhode?" Rhode Island turned her tiny head to look at America briefly, wiping furiously at her tears before sniffing and replying, "Nothing, Papa."

America rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "It's not nothing, Rhode. You're crying."

The little girl stared at him with watery eyes, before a sob rose in her throat and she let out a soft whimper. America held out his arms for her, and she threw herself onto him, soaking his shirt as she cried. He waited for her to calm down before gently taking her small hands into his and asking, "What's the matter, Rhode?"

"New York an' Connecticut were fighting again. And then they were makin' fun a' me 'cause I'm so short." Rhode Island chuckled slightly, which slightly mixed with her sob.

She'd always been strong, his little girl, America mused quietly. New York and Connecticut must've been really mean to make her _cry _like this. Rhode Island was an island for pirates and rogues, tough as nails, not the person to let anything get in her way. _It must be because of rising tempers with England_. America sighed, and picked his daughter up bridal style. Things were going downhill with the older, more powerful nation, and it was making all the colonies on edge, meaning that feelings were especially exaggerated; an example could be used with Connecticut and New York. They normally argued a lot, but this… this was just getting ridiculous. And Pennsylvania. Normally she was stern and motherly, but she'd been especially sharp lately, sometimes even bringing little Georgia to tears.

Something needed to happen soon, or the states would be pushed over the edge and might actually attack England, which was absolutely absurd. There was no possible way they could win, not right now, not with the way they were. England was so much more powerful, and he was just a weak little colony. No way in the entire world could he win.

Right?

* * *

_1776_

"_GIVE ME LIBERTY, OR GIVE ME DEATH!" _

"_YEAH!"_

"_LET ENGLAND SIT AND ROT IN HELL!"_

"_YEAH!" _

"_JUST COLONIES, ARE WE? ARE WE JUST COLONIES?"_

"_NO!"_

"_DO WE HAVE A VOICE?"_

"_YEAH!"_

"_EXACTLY! AND WE'RE GOING TO SHOUT SO LOUD THAT OLD BASTARD WILL HEAR IT WHILE HE'S ACROSS THE DRINK!" _

"_YEAH!"_

America rubbed his temples, trying to clear the ringing from his ears. It was nice that they were so enthusiastic about this independence thing and all (they'd thrown a great old party when he'd gotten home to tell them the news) but this was just ridiculous! How he wished he could tell them to _just shut up _but he couldn't put a damper on their spirits, now could he. _Think of them think of them think of their happiness think about how pleased they'll be when we when so just let them celebrate because this might just be the last time they do…_

He was startled by a gentle, tanned hand, and looked up to see Delaware. He was a quiet, kind, shy child, and America couldn't help thinking of his brother Canada whenever he saw him. While New York was happy to be on the table leading the mob of states who seemed so rowdy and loud, Delaware was just as pleased to sit in the back and be ignored.

Delaware sent him a soft smile, which America returned gratefully. Yup, just like Mattie. So kind and understanding.

America held out his arms to his son, who immediately clambered onto his lap and settled into a comfortable position, leaning against his father while silently staring at the riled states.

"Hey dad." America glanced down in surprise at Delaware.

"What is it, son?" It had taken a while to get used to, but now America could call his children 'son' and not stutter.

Delaware, still watching the now former colonies, let out a soft sigh before glancing up with dark eyes. "Do _you _think we'll win?"

America closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, before looking out with clear eyes at his children, who were still completely crazed with rebellion, and chewed his lip slightly. Then he closed his eyes again, and saw the kind, polite figure of the man who'd raised him looking down at him with those condescending eyes.

What was he to England? Just another colony?

What was independence to him? What was independence to his colonies?

He had everything to gain, and England just had a rebellious colony that he probably just kept for show.

"Yes, Delaware." America said in a strong voice that seemed even more powerful and inspiring than New Yorks rally. "Yes, I do believe we can win."

* * *

_1783_

Maryland sat on a bed, his eyes slightly glazed over, leg propped up on one pillow. The leg was wrapped in bandages, and there were several scars on him that hadn't been there only years before.

Georgia stood over him worriedly, touching his forehead to see if he had a fever and fluffing up his pillow. Her bright, sunny curls tumbled over her shoulders as she examined him, and her eyes had a deeper, more serious look than before.

"Hey, Mary." She murmured, smiling down at him as he blinked up at her.

"Hey, G." Slowly Maryland rose higher onto his pillow, and smiled back at his little sister. "What happened?"

"You were caught in an explosion." She replied hollowly, looking away. "We managed to save your leg, though."

"Hey, hey! What's the matter, sis? I'm alive, right?" Maryland reached up and touched her cheek, watching her with kind eyes.

Georgia sat down next to his bed and hugged him. "Don't you ever do that again, you stupid idiot. I'll kill you myself!"

Maryland laughed and opened his mouth to reply when there was a loud crash and shouting, followed by a long silence, followed by a high-pitched scream. Then, America ran down the aisle of beds and stopped at Maryland's, looking like he'd just run a few miles or something. Maryland couldn't help but groan; America had an overprotective streak, and now it would certainly show itself. He hadn't always been so protective, but especially right before and during the war it had reared its head.

"AAH! Maryland, are you okay? What haaaaapened?" America practically wailed, getting on his knees beside Georgia (as she did a mental sweat drop).

"It's nothing, Dad!" Maryland tried to reassure his frantic parent. "Just a little explosion, really, I'm fine!"

America was silent for a moment, feeling his son's head, before he jumped up, startling the other two occupants. He turned to face Maryland, a fire burning brightly in his eyes, and held out his hand, which his son took confusedly. "I swear to you, my son, that England will not see another day in this war!"

Then, he turned around, taking his gun and his promise out into the rain and onto the battlefield.

* * *

New York stared at a girl, a girl that he'd been staring at for a very long time. He squinted his eyes and slurped some of his ale, still watching her with frightening intensity. She was his target; tonight, he would have her. For some reason, something in the back of his brain was telling him it was a very bad idea, but he shook it off. He always liked a challenge anyway. She was pretty, New York thought, scratching the back of his head. Why hadn't he seen her before? It was a very small world.

The girl suddenly realized that someone was staring at her, because she whipped around and shot New York a heated glare. New York smirked. Oh, feisty.

That is, until she roared, "NEW YORK JONES! I! AM! YOUR! _SISTER_!"

Oh. So that's what his brain had been trying to tell him. He must be really drunk.

It was Pennsylvania, he realized as she took a long draught from her beer. While her ponytail was messy and sloppy, and her apron was lopsided and her dress was covered in dirt, she was definitely Penny. Ah well. The only hot girl who can hold her liquor and she's his sister. Go figure.

The other men in the room let out a roar and began chanting loudly, which made New York smirk. They'd won, they had, against that god damn smug England, and Penny had even let Georgia have a drink or two, just for the special occasion. That would probably be the last, New York knew, because Penny only let everyone drink for the reason that she was on a high from their win.

Delaware was suddenly standing on the table, his normally timid eyes taking a strange crazed look to them, and shouted. "YEAAAH!" As the people in the bar roared and laughed with him. America was the only one who wasn't going completely insane, but he was sobbing in a corner with his drink (America was a sentimental drunk) and going on about how awful he was to England and how he should apologize and stuff like that.

New York let out a happy sigh and knocking back the rest of his drink he stood up and joined in the celebrations.

* * *

"Ugh, my head…" America muttered, holding his pounding temples and wincing as the sunlight poured in through the glass-less window frame. Jagged pieces of glass bordered the wood, and the rest of the window was wedged through the wall on the other side of the room.

Well.

What a way to wake up.

But wait a second, where were his kids?

America looked around, knowing that just the night before they'd been laughing at him for being a sentimental old man (America cringed—he spilled his deepest secrets when he was drunk) and looked harder. You could see where they'd been—the trail of carnage was everywhere, but—

And suddenly, his head was on fire, and it hurt so much he fell to his knees—

_And then he was Philadelphia, his thoughts, his memories, and he was so confused and his head was hurting and there was a strange white room and his siblings were passed out on the floor—_

He was himself again, on the floor, moaning in pain, trying to figure out what had just happened. For a moment, he'd been Philly, but that didn't make any sense. Philly had been in a strange white room made of a strange material, and everyone had been conked out on the floor. But that was impossible, right?

Slowly America stood, careful not to disturb his aching head, and looked around the room again. "Philly?" He rasped, wincing when the noise hit his ears. "Penny? New—"

_And then he was Philadelphia again, head hurting again and still so confused because his sibling weren't waking up and something weird had happened and for a moment he'd felt like dad but it really hurt and—_

America cried out and sank down, putting his head between his knees and letting out a low moan. What the hell was that?

"_D-Dad?"_ A voice suddenly called, and it sounded like Philadelphia. But that was impossible, right? Because Philly was nowhere near him, so—

_And then he was in front of a strange contraption, looking at a weird flat, smooth…thing, that was displaying something that looked an awful lot like the bar they'd been in the night before, and he suddenly realized that the only possible explanation was that he was looking out from his father's eyes, and that was probably what was happening when his head flared and he saw America's thoughts—_

America reeled back, clutching his head, feeling a tiny flare of shock and resignation when he heard a soft cry of pain emanating from the inside of his head.

Some reason, somehow, the states and his capital had ended up inside of his head.

**Okay, so this is basically a flashback with the states and America. Kind of how things were. The story will continue after this chapter, though, unless someone gets down on their virtual hands and knees and begs. **

**Edit: For those who don't know, Philedelphia was the capital before D.C. **

**And while Virginia wasn't the first state, it was the first colony. I'm putting the states in order by age now:**

**Virginia: 1607**

**Maryland: 1632**

**Rhode Island: 1636**

**Connecticut: 1636**

**N. Carolina: 1660**

**New York: 1664**

**New Jersey: 1664**

**Delaware: 1664**

**New Hampshire: 1680**

**Pennsylvania: 1681**

**Massachusetts: 1692**

**S. Carolina: 1729**

**Georgia: 1732**

**A lot of websites were giving me different answers, so I went with wiki, but if this is wrong tell me. **

**Thanks!**

**IceEckos12**


	20. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: NO own APH. States are mine. **

**No more random crack. It's time to get serious!**

As England sulked in a corner, Penny began to speak (After she'd told him that he didn't know very much and that the states could explain better than he could).

"We are the United States.

"You may be thinking, 'you're crazy', but it's true. At first America thought we were normal children, but later, a few days after Georgia was made, he came to the realization of what we were. He was going to tell England," (At this the sulking man raised his head in surprise) "But he thought that England already had enough on his plate to deal with. Also, he felt that we were his colonies, not England's. After all, he was our father.

"England never figured out about us, though there was a close call. Right before the war, tensions were running pretty high, and we got in a lot more fights than we usually did. Finally, in 1776 we separated from England, and threw a big party right afterwards. We were so determined to win our freedom, that we ourselves entered the war, even us girls. Georgia became a doctor; Rhode Island was a soldier (dressed as a boy, of course) and I was a spy. The boys were soldiers. The day that England lost to America was the day after Maryland got caught in an explosion, and dad went after England with France. We won, of course.

"And of course, being the party animals we are, we threw a great big party and had a drinking binge. Everyone was drunk out of their minds; New York even tried to hit on me he was so out of it.

"When we woke up…we were in the Room.

"The room has been our sanctuary—and our nightmare for the past few centuries. There are four other rooms off of it; the girls' bathroom, the boys' bathroom, the control room and the supply room. Everything we need. The control room allows us to see the outside world, everything that America is doing. And…

"Every time America gets drunk, for some strange reason we appear. We don't know why, we don't know how, and we don't know how to fix it. If we stay outside of America for a long time, we're forced back into D.C., and if we touch D.C. we're forced in anyway. It's a lose-lose situation."

They took it better than England had, that was for certain. They didn't faint, at least.

Spain looked stunned, his mouth parted slightly in surprise, his red eyes the size of dinner plates. Prussia looked thoughtful, focus flickering in and out of his gaze as though he were trying to remember. France looked like he _wanted _to faint, but was containing the urge as best he could. England was still sulking in the corner, now because he knew that America had hidden the states from him for so long. Russia hadn't reacted.

"Are you _serious?" _Prussia said finally. "No shit?"

"If you need proof." Pennsylvania said quietly. "We have it."

The other countries looked at her in surprise, while the states looked on with stony expressions on their faces. Pennsylvania steeled herself, let out a long calming breath, and said, "Follow me. I think it's time you met D.C."

As they followed her through England's house, Prussia's mind was still reeling. From the first moment he'd seen 'Lucas', he felt that he'd seen him before, but couldn't quite recall where. Now that he knew that 'Lucas' was 'New York', and that he was much older, Prussia could vaguely recall a small green-eyed soldier with black hair in the camp that he'd trained Americans in. And now that he thought about it, he could vaguely recall some other kids he recognized from the camp; the blonde twins, an Italian looking boy, etc…

How could he have missed that?

He was vaguely aware that the group had stopped outside the basement door, and Penny had turned around and said, "He's a little skittish, so I'm going to go and get him. Wait here."

After a few minutes, there was just the faint sound of Penny calling, "D.C.? D.C?"

Her voice got increasingly frantic, and that's when Prussia snapped out of his remembering and into the present. He, without thinking, jumped over one of the kid's heads and ran downstairs behind Penny, determined to help her find the kid. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, he watched her slim body shaking on the ground, and moved to her side.

Just then she noticed he was there, and looked up with a tearful expression, making Prussia's heart freeze, even though he'd only just met the girl.

"He's gone."

* * *

_10 minutes earlier_

A man stared at England's house, contemplating his plan of attack.

He'd been following America for several months, and knew almost everything about him. His habits, where he went, everywhere. The stupid oaf didn't suspect a thing.

So he'd followed America to England, and was surprised to see the guy _drinking at a bar. _America never drank; in fact, he avoided alcohol all the time, as though he was afraid of it for some reason. However, tonight, England (whom America was particularly fond of) had managed to convince him to drink some scotch.

And then America had proceeded to get very, _very _drunk.

The man had stayed at the bar a few hours more, just to make sure that America hadn't been looking for something important, before heading back to England's house (where he was certain America would be). After all, the American always went to England's house whenever he went to England. For some reason, the guy acted angry whenever America barged into his house, but was actually very pleased.

He could not understand what relationship they shared.

Anyway, he slowly crept up to the window, expecting to see either a drunken American or no one at all. What a shock he got when it was neither—about fifty or so kids, with England and some other countries that he couldn't recognize. England was in a corner for some reason, and a girl was talking to the other countries.

He pressed his ear to the glass, hoping to pick up what she was saying, and listened as best he could. Though he couldn't hear every little detail, he got the basic idea.

Every time America got drunk, the states popped out of him.

Backing away slowly, the man sat down in shock. This…was a great discovery! If he could just capture one of them, he could hold one for ransom or something! The possibilities were endless!

The man slowly circled the house, looking for a separate way to get in. Finally, he stopped at a small window deep in the ground, which obviously led to the basement. Well, it was the best he could do for now. The opportunity that the states presented wouldn't show up for a very long time most likely, so he had to work quickly. He hopped down to the window and searched for a way to open it.

As he crept inside, he froze when he heard an accusing voice say, "Who're you?"

The man turned very slowly and saw who the voice belonged to. It was a small boy who looked exactly like America, with the same blue eyes and golden hair, and the only difference was that he was much shorter than the country and he didn't have any glasses.

The man stared at the boy, and suddenly realized that this child had just been dropped in his lap on a silver plate.

"Hello. My name is Al Qaeda. I'm sure you've heard of me."

D.C. paled, staring at the man with a horrified expression on his face, and backed away slowly. "You stay away from me, creep." He hissed, though it was slightly ruined by his trembling. "I thought dad took care of you!"

Al Qaeda gave him a humorless grin. "No, sorry. But I'm afraid you'll have to come with me, right now." Black eyebrows rose. "We can do this the hard way…or the easy way."

D.C. opened his mouth and took a deep breath, preparing to call for his siblings, but was interrupted by a fist to the jaw. His breath left him with a small _umph! _And he rubbed where he'd been hit with a small hand.

Suddenly he transformed into America himself, in all his glory, and attacked.

It was a good thing that none of America's experience or strength was transferred over to the boy, because Al Qaeda easily took him down. He sat on D.C.'s back, grinning quietly at the struggling capital. "Alright, the hard way, then." And then he knocked him out.

D.C. shrank back down to his original size, leaving him looking vulnerable and weak. Al Qaeda easily hefted the child over his shoulder, and escaped out the window just as Penny walked downstairs, calling D.C.'s name.

**Hehehehe…the story is moving along! **

**Al Qaeda is an OC I made (if you've read Oneshot Heaven you'll understand). **

**Ooo! What's going to happen now? **

**IceEckos12**


	21. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH!**

When D.C. awoke, he realized that he couldn't feel his fingers.

"What the—" He muttered, trying move his hands to look at the appendages, before realizing that he couldn't move his them, either. In fact…wiggling his back-side, D.C. discovered that he was tied to a chair, thick ropes bound around his waist, feet, and wrists, preventing him from moving. _At least I haven't lost anything…_ He thought, trying to remove them from the arms of the chairs. _It's cutting off my circulation, though. If that idiot keeps this up I might just lose a few fingers… _

He gasped, suddenly remembering exactly why he was tied to a chair. "Al Qaeda!"

"So you've finally woken up…" A deep voice said, scaring the living _daylights _out of the poor capital.

It took only a moment for him to recover from his surprise. "What the hell, man? You're killing my fingers!" D.C. shouted, rocking the chair back and forth. "Loosen the bindings, dammit! I _like _my hands where they are!"

Shock practically rolled off the terrorist group in waves; he obviously wasn't expecting _that _response. _Too bad, buddy. _D.C. snarled inside his head, using his momentum to try and jump. _I'm in a bad mood. I just got captured by you, freaking creep, I'm tied to a chair and _still _can't feel my fingers, and it's dark. _

Instead of loosening the ropes like D.C. had asked, a bright spotlight suddenly shone on him, effectively blinding him for a few seconds, which was a less than welcome change from the darkness. _This just puts me in a worse mood, asshole. _

After his eyes adjusted, he finally noticed something about his captor. "Wait a second…_you're _not Al Qaeda!" The realization was quickly followed with a slap to the face.

"Who I am does not matter to you. I'd be worrying about yourself, _American._" Was the gruff response; which was another thing that gave him away. Al Qaeda still looked and sounded like a child, even with the stupid faux beard; this man was obviously older, and D.C. felt a little stupid for not realizing it earlier. Just who _was _this guy?

"Now, you're going to answer all my questions, and you're going to answer them correctly or…"

He was cut off by the telephone ringing.

Both the occupants of the room stared incredulously at the door, from where the phone was playing some sort of jaunty middle-eastern tune.

"…Wait here." The man finally muttered, darting out of the room, a long sliver of light peaking through the crack.

"As _if." _D.C. muttered, and quickly transformed into a little kid, freeing himself from his bindings. The man obviously hadn't done his research; perhaps this capture was just a spur of the moment kind of thing?

Creeping through the door and out into the hall, he examined his surroundings.

He was in a long, dirty hall that had once been a cheerful purple, but was now close to crossing the line of psycho-serial-killer; dirt covered the walls, and he could see a stain that looked _suspiciously _like blood. The floor was covered in cracked tiles, and it looked like it _really _needed to be cleaned. _A janitor hasn't seen this place in _years…He thought, shrugged, and quietly turned left and poked his head through the first door he found.

It was obviously some sort of technology room, filled with screens, microphones, and all sorts of obscure but vaguely familiar equipment he couldn't put a name to. Most of the screens were blank and covered with dust; a few of them were cracked, except for five in a corner, which flickered with life and showed the U.N. meeting that was occurring that day and all the doors.

Wait.

What?

D.C. stared at the picture, rubbing his eyes in shock, and slowly looked around the room.

Oh God, these people were _stalking _them.

It took another second for D.C. to notice the microphone connected to the console, and then he smirked. He had just discovered his escape plan.

* * *

China sat in his chair, posture perfect, looking around at the other nations in the UN meeting room.

Now, _normally _the room would be filled with the loud noises of England, France and America bickering with each other; Gilbert would be cackling loudly, and everyone would be avoiding a certain Russian sitting in his chair. However _today _the room was suspiciously empty of these specific happenstances; it seemed that he was the only one of the Allies that had showed up, though for some reason all of the others had appeared.

_Perhaps we're having separate meetings today…? _China wondered to himself, shifting slightly.

"China-nii-san."

He turned to see Japan, blank black eyes looking at him almost quizzically. "Hm, Japan? What is it, aru?"

"Where is everyone?" At this, Japan swept a delicate hand over the room, which just confirmed China's suspicions that something was definitely wrong.

"I don't know, but—"

"_Hello? Hello, is this thing on?" _

The other countries in the room jumped.

"_Man, that was really funny. You guys jumped, like, ten feet." _

"Who are you?" Germany shouted, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

"_I'm not saying, though here's a clue: I'm an acquaintance of America's. Oh, I'm sorry; did I forget to mention that I know that y'all are countries? Oops."_

The voice was annoyingly condescending, and China stood up, a low growl in his throat. "What do you want, aru?"

"_Geez, no need to be so _hostile. _I'm sure you guys all are wondering where the other countries are — I know and I guess it's partly my fault they're not here, and they're not going to show up until they know where I am." _

"You're point?" Denmark yelled, his ax resting lazily on his shoulder.

"_Well, you can call me Diece. And, um, I need your help. I'm in just a spot of trouble."_

* * *

Idaho sat on Montana's shoulders and thought.

He'd finally decided to show his face after they'd revealed themselves to the other countries, figuring that he'd no longer be bored with the rest of the world, and now he was kind of regretting it. This was perhaps just a bit too much excitement for him.

"He would never _run away_." Pennsylvania snarled. "We're like a _drug _to him, he loves us so much!"

Idaho knew that his 'blank' side was a Mormon; he was impeccably neat and quiet, and also very religious; most of the other states didn't bother him. He was hardworking, kind, and the other states respected him for that.

However _he, _the other half, was a complete nutcase; he was very territorial and swung more to the 'crazy militia' part of himself. Also, he was a very, _very, _smart nutcase, so while the others were arguing…

"Someone must have kidnapped him, that's the only explanation!"

"Be quiet, all of you!" Idaho snapped. These _idiots _were interrupting his thought process!

There was a hushed silence. Had Idaho just…_spoken? _

Montana looked up at his brother, feeling a little alarmed by this new attitude. Often enough, America had looked online to see the stereotypes for his states (at their request, of course) and Idaho had once been described as full of 'Mormon's, crazy militias, and skinheads **(I kid you not, this is what I found), **and Montana had been quite pleased that the only traits he'd showed was his Mormon side. Were these some of the other sides of him showing through…?

"We know that he was kidnapped, right?" Idaho growled, again stunning the crowd with his voice. "Lou, can't you just track him with your magic?"

Lou frowned, looking at the tips of her black shoes, before murmuring, "I'll need something that he's touched recently—anything."

The others shrugged, until a low, rumbling voice sounded from the corner. "The song—he printed off the lyrics to the song."

California?

_Okay… _Not just Idaho, but California, too?

"Alright, Lou…Let's find our little brother." Pennsylvania said, standing up. "You go first."

As the other states filed out of the room behind Louisiana, England and the other countries stared after them.

And suddenly, England felt something stirring in his head, but he couldn't quite place it.

"France, I feel like I'm forgetting something important."

The statement was a little random, and France turned to look at England, still a little shocked from seeing the states. "What is it, _mon cher?" _

"I feel like…like…Why did America come here in the first place? Not just to drink…it was…" England rubbed his chin, trying to remember why he felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else…

"I'm feeling it, too." Spain murmured, crossing his arms. "Oh! I forgot to hug little Florida! He's so cuuuute~!"

England shook his head, furrowing his ginormous eyebrows in concentration. "It was…" His eyes trailed over the other countries in the room, and he silently mused that this looked awfully like one of the Allies meetings, minus America and China…And then he found it. "Oh, shit!"

France cocked his head sideways, picking at his half-melted clothing. "Hmmm?"

"There was a United Nations meeting today! That's why America came!" England gripped his head in his hands. "What're we going to tell the others?"

That's when his cellphone rang, playing a cutesy Chinese song.

They all stared at it in horror, knowing that they were probably in for the scolding of a lifetime.

After what seemed like an eternity, England picked up the cell and slowly placed it next to his ear, and clicked, 'Talk'.

"H-Hello?"

"England, you better have a good reason for being late, aru."

"Um…"

"Whatever. I don't have time to listen to your excuses, aru. Have you ever heard of someone named Diece?"

**Yes, D.C. hacked into the UN intercom, in case you were wondering. **

**And I went to go look up Idaho stereotypes, and believe it or not someone described them as 'Mormons, crazy militias, and skinheads.' Look it up. **

**I'm not as satisfied with this chapter—it feels a little rushed to me.**

**I'm so, **_**so **_**proud of myself—I kept the chapters going! Yayz! I think there'll be five or six more chapters, and I'm so excited! Thanks for sticking with me all this time!**

**And Al Qaeda is an imposter. Who saw that coming?**

**IceEckos12**


	22. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH.**

"Diece?" England felt his heart skip a beat. "Did you just say Diece?"

The other countries in the room glanced up excitedly, obviously all thinking the exact same thing. Russia got up and walked out after the states, presumably to tell them that China had called with some information about their brother, and France, Prussia and Spain crowded close around England, trying to listen in on the conversation. When China began to speak again he pressed a finger to his lips, trying to get them to shut up so _he could listen._

If he'd been looking at China's face, he was sure he would've seen a small frown. "Yeah, I did. Do you know him, aru?"

_Play hard to get. _England thought to himself, and folded his arms. "Maybe I don't, maybe I do. Who wants to know?" This was not a technique that he himself usually used; it was actually America's move, to condescendingly withhold information to _get _more information. England's usual method was mental torture, and he couldn't quite use that on China without sounding suspicious.

"Dammit England, aru! Just tell me who the hell he is, aru!" China had obviously picked up on this little ploy, and was less than happy about it. England sighed, and abandoned interrogation.

"Why do you want to know, China?" England growled back, unconsciously leaning forward, a serious expression on his face. "I'll be happy to tell you, when you tell me _why._"

China was interrupted by the roar of over fifty footsteps pouring back into his room, followed by a bewildered Russia (with a certain Alaskan girl clinging to him). The states stopped only for a moment, before converging around England, making his vision spin and his eyes whirl in an attempt to keep track of all of them at once, which obviously failed. When his head finally cleared, and England dared open his eyes again, he found himself staring into the faces of more than fifty states sitting in front of him, watching him with expectant, alert eyes, from all the strangest places; the hall, the closet, and there was actually a pair on the ceiling.

He licked his lips and gulped awkwardly, feeling a little self-conscious about being the center of attention, before pressing the phone back to his face in an attempt to distract himself. "I'm sorry, China," England said faintly, "I didn't quite catch any of that."

"I heard, aru." China said, sounding a little alarmed. "What do you have in there, an elephant, aru?"

England was quite for a very, very long time before he chose to answer. "Something like that."

* * *

"Little _brat!" _D.C. whipped around to see the man who'd captured him, and pressed the mike back to his mouth, hissing out a few words before his captor could quite literally pull the plug on his escape plan. "How the hell did you get out?"

"I'm magical." D.C. said, as though revealing a great secret of mankind.

The man scowled, and approached the little capital, fully intending to capture him. D.C., fully intending _not _to be captured again, ran at his captor's legs, and hooked himself around one of them, clinging like it was a lifeline. As he was shaken and kicked and punched, D.C. opened his mouth to shout, "Just who _are _you?"

The person grabbed a desk, shaking his leg, trying to dislodge the little _leech _that'd somehow attached itself to him. He didn't respond to the question, instead choosing to remain silent.

"Y-Y-You k-k-k-k-know," D.C. managed to get out as he was shaken up and down repeatedly, "A-A-Al Q-Q-Q-Qaed-d-d-d-da w-w-w-w-w-w-wears a-a-a-a f-f-f-f-faux b-b-b-beard-d-d-d!"

That's when he started whacking the capital against the wall.

"And—_oof—_he—_oof—_looks—_oof—_so—_oof—_much—_oof—_younger—_oof—_than—_oof—_you!"

"Get the hell off of me!" The man roared, obviously having had enough of this little annoyance. In his fury, he accidently kicked towards the door, and D.C. chose that exact moment to let go.

It wasn't perfect; no, D.C. stumbled a few times before he managed to right himself, but his captor had fallen down after losing the weight of a whole person, so he saluted, and called, "Later, you phony!"

The captor cursed, staring after where D.C. had run off to, and mentally berated himself for forgetting to install hallway cameras. It would make his search _so _much easier, but now he had to search the entire building for the little brat. For just a second, he regretted even going after the little twerp, but shook off the feeling. He could still get his ransom, as long as the little capital didn't get close enough to a phone to say that he was in no real danger. All he had to do was keep up his bluff.

By now, you're probably thinking about how idiotic that man was; didn't he notice D.C. talking into the mike at the beginning of the scene? Well, he did, but he immediately assumed it was some childish ploy to get him all worked up; by now I'm sure you've guessed caliber of man we're dealing with. Who, in other words, is a complete idiot. Did you really doubt that? If you assumed he actually had an ounce of intelligence, I'm glad you're considering the good in everyone, but this is untrue.

So why am I telling you this?

Just pointing it out.

* * *

Did anyone notice else notice that Canada had suddenly disappeared?

I know you didn't, but I sure did.

The last we saw from him, he was in chapter sixteen—or was it seventeen?

And that was when the other countries had asked him exactly who he was.

So where did our friendly little Canadian go?

If you thought that he was mingling with the other states, you'd be wrong.

If you thought he was bashing his poor little blond head against the wall, you're wrong too.

If you said he was staking out the building where D.C. was captured, armed with several packs of C4, his favorite handguns and a sniper, you'd be correct.

So here he was, binoculars pinned to his face, looking through one of the windows, feeling very proud of himself for actually finding the place where his little nephew was (It was actually quite easy—Canada had gone downstairs to check on D.C. earlier, and had actually watched the man go out the window. It was a simple matter to follow his tracks and set up shop in front of the building.

Surprisingly, the windows weren't painted over or blocked; the glass was cracked in several places, and one good bullet would easily pierce the crystal. Canada clucked his tongue. This place was strategically well-placed, and yet the man didn't take advantage of the location; it seemed as though that this was a spur of the moment and he'd needed a random building to hide out in.

He was broken out of his musings by the sight of a flicker in the window, and immediately shot at whatever it was. Thankfully, he missed.

Mortified by his obvious lack of control, he was stunned by the sight of a blond head looking out through the window; a very familiar blonde head.

Canada took that opportunity to wave towards the little capital, who waved back, before giving him a thumbs up and running off. He frowned quietly, and placed his eye in front of scope, and—

Right there!

There wasn't a second of hesitance, as his heart pounded in his chest, and the only thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing; he could just feel the trigger and the cold metal against his cheek, his mouth was dry, and he only smelled the scent of blood, and the only thing he could see was the shadow in the window—

Canada pulled the trigger.

* * *

Inside, the man claiming to be Al Qaeda, who'd been the unlucky, stupid fellow chasing after D.C., fell to the ground with a bullet planted in his shoulder.

**Hehehehe…I forgot about Canada. Did anyone else? Bad me. I gave him a badass part, though. **

**So now you're probably wondering, 'Oh, if Canada was going to rescue D.C. in the first place, why did you make him get the other countries attention?'. Well…I had to get them involved somehow. Now there's **_**no backing out**_**. **

**See what I did there? See? See? **

**This chapter is a bit shorter than I prefer, but...I think it's pretty good.**

**I'm out. **

**IceEckos12**

**p.s. Dude, I have people from _Russia _reading my story! And England! And Canada! And Italy, and Hungary, and Germany...By the way, next time you go to youtube, type in, 'The Nations of the World' by Animaniacs. **


	23. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH.**

D.C. paused, tilted his head, and moved back several paces.

It sounded like…like…a bullet. Another one of his Uncle's Parker Hale M82 sniper rifle shots—it was his favorite gun, even though it'd been out of service since 2003. Actually, now that he thought about it, Grandpa England had used the gun too, but he didn't favor it as much as his uncle did (who _cherished _the hunk of metal). Anyway, it sounded like a bullet, and the only two people with guns was the person on the cliff and the guy who was supposedly chasing him. Considering that no one was chasing him anymore, he could only assume that his Uncle had shot his captor.

The little capital slowly crept back to the window, making sure he wasn't visible—Mattie tended to get a little trigger happy, despite his soft and unimpressive appearance. Thankfully when he gently poked his hand in front of the window (better to get a hole in his palm than a hole in the head) nothing happened, so he tentatively stuck his head up.

He couldn't see Canada, but that was to be expected; after all, his Uncle was excellent at camouflage. Half the time, D.C. wondered how he could just randomly appear out of nowhere, but when he asked Canada had just let out a long breathy sigh and had told him it was purely instinctual. His Uncle was a super-ninja! How cool was _that? _

After a few moments D.C. realized that something was moving in the trees, something that looked suspiciously like…a hand! He waved back vigorously, then held up a finger and mouthed 'one minute' before turning around and stopping at the sight of the middle-eastern man splayed upon the ground behind him, moaning up a storm, blood oozing out of one shoulder. _Serves him right. _D.C. thought, carefully reaching into his captor's pockets and pulling out a cellphone.

* * *

Canada jumped when his cellphone rang.

His gloved fingers scrambled with his pockets, before pulling out the phone, which was humming out his anthem—mixed with a techy tune in the background. America had called it, 'modern'. Canada called it, 'garbage'.

He didn't recognize the number, so he suspiciously flipped open the top and put his black Motorola Brute i686 (extra durable) to his ear. "_Bonjour." _

"_Bonjour, c'est moi." _The reply came, good nature filling the butchered French words. _"Or something like that." _

"Something like that." Canada said vaguely, choosing not to hover over the terrible pronunciation. "You let yourself get captured, D.C. What happened?"

"_My martial arts left me at a time of great need." _D.C. said, letting a tinge of sarcasm enter his words. _"What do you think? I got ambushed by some amateur. He isn't even Al Qaeda." _

"What?" Canada was honestly surprised. "Not Al Qaeda? Who is he?"

"_I think he was listening when you guys were explaining things upstairs." _There was an uncomfortable pause. _"Must be someone with a personal vendetta against us." _

Canada could feel the slight sadness, and his heart went out to the boy; nobody likes it when someone dislikes them, but to be so young and already have someone after his head? It was not something he would wish on anyone. Then again, attempted assassinations were nothing new to a nation, especially one like America, sticking his nose in everyone's business and expecting to come out unscathed—perhaps even with a reward.

"If the man wakes up, knock him back out. We'll put him in jail, and everything will go back to normal."

There was a long pause on the other end, before a soft, _'Oh shit' _echoed out of the speaker.

Canada let out a long, _long _sigh, and pressed his fingertips to his forehead. "What is it?"

"_When I escaped from my bindings, I found a room that was watching the UN meeting." _

He relaxed. That didn't sound so bad.

"_I noticed a microphone in the corner, so I might've…hacked into the UN intercom." _

That sounded slightly worse.

"_I blackmailed the other countries into rescuing me."_

Well. That definitely deserved an 'oh shit'. Actually, it deserved something much, _much _stronger.

"Tell me everything."

* * *

Forgetting someone?

Yes, we are.

Last chapter it was Canada, but he was being totally badass.

This time it's America, sitting in D.C.'s head, extremely bored—and being extremely boring.

After the other countries had shown up, he'd been so excited, craving for some action, but then the states had taken the easy route out and D.C. had remained downstairs, giving him nothing to do.

So now he was playing Go Fish with a replica of himself. And of course, he was losing, just like he'd been losing in strip poker, Black Jack, Old Maid, Cribbage, Rummy, War, Scopa (considered a national Italian card game), Cassino, Baccarat, Solitaire, Pinochle, Pokémon, B.S., Exploding Snap (a game from England's popular book, 'Harry Potter'), Durak, Preferans (both Russian games from the Cold War), Dou Di Zhu (a game China had taught to him during WW2), Euchre, Belote, Tarot, Asshole, Around the World (only with root beer—he was a little disappointed when they didn't have real alcohol), and Crazy Eights.

The replica of himself, a creation of the Supply Room, carefully chewed on his lip and looked into America's identical blue eyes. "Do you have a…nine?"

"Damn." The real one muttered, taking a nine from his pile and watching as another pair found its place in front of the clone.

"Do you have a ten?" That evil, evil gleam.

"Go Fish!" He cried happily, watching in satisfaction as the replica's hands reached down and took the top card from the pile. "Okay, my turn. Do you have a jack?"

The replica held his poker face for just a second before his face split into a grin. "Go Fish. Suck on that, _America."_

"Shut up Alfred." America responded irritably, taking the top card.

"Whatever." Alfred responded smugly, staring down at his cards. "Do you have a three?"

Indeed he did, and as he gave his double the card a long list of swearwords emptied from his mouth.

"Dude, I so obviously won." America couldn't help but agree, and watched unemotionally as Alfred put away the cards. "Why don't we play that one game—memory, or something like that?"

"Sure, whatever." America was giving up hope that he would ever win against himself. "I think I'll check up on D.C. while you're setting up."

Alfred gave an absentminded grunt while America almost lethargically walked towards the control room.

To be honest, at first America had been a little scared of Alfred; seeing himself in the mirror was one thing, but as a clone? Wieeee-rrrrrrd. Not to mention the fact that they could practically read each other's minds, due to the fact that they thought alike. When he'd told the Supply Room to come up with something to entertain him, he honestly had expected something…well, not a clone, that's for sure. Now that he was used to the double, though, he thought that the clone—whom they'd dubbed, 'Alfred', was really, really cool. He honestly wondered if Alfred could ever get out of his head…**(Ominous premonition for sequel…)**

He was still thinking this as he walked to the control room, and he was still thinking it when he plopped into the chair and glanced up at the screen.

What he saw made him do a double take.

Quickly flipping on the volume (America had muted it so it wouldn't bother the card games), America leaned closer to the screen, trying to get a sense of what was going on.

"…_told them the security features and China said it wouldn't be a problem."_

Huh? D.C. had contacted China?

"_So you didn't say anything about the states?" _

His brother's voice, tinny and soft filtered through the speakers, and America realized that they were talking over the phone. What had happened? He turned around and ran to the doorway. "Alfred!"

The clone looked up, distracted with laying out the cards for the game they were going to play. "Hm?"

"Something's wrong, and I don't know what."

Alfred immediately dropped what he was doing (sending cards floating across the floor), jumped up, and hurried over to the control room, following America inside.

"_That's good, then the situation is still salvageable. Wait a second—I'm getting a call from England. Hold for a moment."_

It was Canada again—America had missed whatever D.C. had said.

"So what do we know?" Alfred asked, staring at the screen, which was displaying a dirty purple wall.

"For some reason D.C. had to contact China and tell him security features. I don't think D.C. mentioned anything about the states."

Alfred nodded and frowned. "You think D.C. finally went through with his threats and decided to rob a bank?"

"Nah," America said, scratching his nose with his finger. "I talked him out of that last year. However _New York…" _

America was interrupted by Canada's voice, which would say something that would change his life—forever.

"_It's looking bad, Diece. China's curious, and he's threatening something bad if we don't tell him. Actually, he's threatening bad if we don't let America _himself _talk to him." _

"_How bad?" _

"_He says that he'll have to assume that you're some sort of super-clone that America has created, and if we don't have a good reason for your existence he's going to have to _assume _that we're preparing for a super-war. And he says that if you're preparing for a super war, than he, too, will have to prepare for a war—of nuclear proportions." _

**Bum, bum, BUM! **

**I'll bet none of you were expecting that. **

**China's overreacting, obviously. He wants to knooooooow. **

**I actually did my research-Canadian army actually used the Parker Hale until 2003. And the Motorola Brute is the third best phone. Or so says the internet. Don't blame me, blame the internet!**

**And I don't know if I'm actually doing a sequel—I might if people ask me too, but I don't know if this is popular enough. So if you want a sequel, just say the word, because I already have an idea half forming in my mind. **

**Anyway…over and out.**

**IceEckos12**


	24. Chapter 22

**Guh. I haven't updated in a while. Sorry. ^^'**

**I don't own APH!**

D.C. sat on the couch, his hands folded in front of him, eyes clenched tight, back bent over.

The other states stood around him, looking side to side, trying to figure out what to say.

Canada leaned against one wall, his gun slung on a brown leather strap behind him.

England was kneading his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure building in his head.

Spain, Russia, France, Prussia and Mexico were sitting on the other pieces of furniture, looking a little awkward.

"Explain this to me again." Pennsylvania said quietly, her sharp green eyes glaring at England. "China's threatening to start a _nuclear war?"_

England switched from knuckling his eyes to rubbing his temples, and let out a loud sigh. "Yes, he's threatening war. And somehow he's got the Axis backing him. _Somehow._"

"Preposterous. He's bluffing." Pennsylvania frowned, shaking her head in frustration. "He wouldn't start a war over—over something as stupid as _this." _

"Well, he might not start a war," He admitted, stroking his chin. "But he certainly might give us hell—no, he most _certainly _will give us hell."

There was a long pause.

"So what do we do?" It was Spain who spoke; he'd been catching up with Florida, and was now cuddling him, much as he would've done to a younger Romano—however, the little peninsula didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, his face was stretched into a long, wide grin.

"I don't know." Pennsylvania muttered, closing her eyes.

D.C. finally glanced up, and scratched the back of his head. "I've been talking with Dad." He murmured, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He thinks it would be best to just tell the truth. It's time for this charade to end."

The other countries (except for Russia and Mexico) glanced at D.C., surprised, while Pennsylvania threw her hands into the air, exasperated. "No, we can't! As much as I'd like to consider that option…" her eyes scrunched close. "You know why we can't…"

There was a long silence, before D.C. spoke again. "Dad figured it out, but you won't like it."

The other states froze, before New York stepped forward, Alaska's pipe in one hand (_How the hell did he get that? _England thought, twitching). "If you're lying, I will kill you. Family or _not._"

The little capital stared at the pipe with wide eyes, and looked slowly away.

New York lowered the pipe, still watching his little brother. "You have ten seconds. _Talk." _

"It's not that hard to explain." He couldn't help but reply snarkily, which elicited a growl from his older brother. "Okay, okay! We all have to get drunk. You know—all of us."

There was a very long pause.

"Oh."

* * *

D.C. and the other countries were hiding in the basement while a war waged over their heads.

At first it had been a small argument, Pennsylvania versus New York; New York wanted freedom, and Pennsylvania wanted the safety of her father's head. Then it had escalated, other states joining in…and had finally turned into an all-out _brawl. _Every state had gotten in on it, even the more peaceful ones. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly?) Idaho and New York were the masterminds of the 'Freedom' group, and Pennsylvania and Montana were the 'Use your Head' group leaders.

Actually, a lot had happened that D.C. hadn't expected; for one thing, a lot more people than he would've thought actually wanted to stay in America's head. It was less than half, sure, but it was still a large amount.

Second, the states had somehow conjured water guns out of nowhere and were now using them as weapons. And somehow, there was enough for all 50 states (and 2 half-countries) participating—with some left over.

Third, he and the other countries were hiding in the basement.

That was strange enough as it was.

What was even weirder, however, was that the BTT were sulking in the corner, Mexico and Russia were comparing photographs of their 'children', and England was flipping through an old Sherlock Holmes book. Normal things to do, as though there wasn't a giant fight going on upstairs.

D.C. curled his arms tighter around his legs, trying not to start crying. Life had been so much simpler when they just went around and did tourist-y things, not getting captured and the like. Now that he thought about it, life was predictable, but at least it was stable. Maybe they were in over their heads with this whole 'freedom' thing.

"You know," He said finally, catching England's attention. The others ignored him. "They could be blowing up the house up there."

England blinked, and snapped the book shut. "What do you mean?"

That's when a state (Mississippi) hurried down the stairs, caked with dirt and some sort of substance that was unknown. He looked around, a wild look in his eyes, spotted a pile of wooden planks in the corner, grabbed them, and ran back upstairs.

D.C. gave England a pointed look.

England scratched his head and sighed, before placing the dog-eared book next to him and scooting closer to America's capital.

"Why are you all making such a big deal about this?" He asked, frowning slightly. "I thought this is what you guys _wanted." _

"First of all, Penny probably doesn't want any of us getting drunk in the first place." D.C. pointed out. England nodded.

"But surely that's not the entire reason?" It was France who spoke up this time; he'd been half paying attention to their conversation, curious himself about why they were hiding in the basement.

D.C. gave France a long, searching look, before dropping his head back to his knees again, looking too much like a child with an enormous weight on his shoulders.

"It's because…" He took in a deep breath. "It's because we're _scared."_

He got clueless looks for his trouble.

"Let me tell you something—a theoretical scenario. Let's pretend you've lived in a house, or a place of some sort for a very long time, and you've only had your siblings to keep you company. You can see what's going on outside the house, but you're not allowed outside—except for special occasions, and you only have a limited time outside.

"But you're affected by things that happen outside, too. For instance, if there's a sickness that affects the people outside, then it affects you too. If you're 'house' gets bombed, you get affected, too. And it's worse on the outside. You see people getting hurt and murdered and violated on a daily basis, and you know that you're so much safer in your sheltered home. Not to mention a lot of your siblings aren't really worried about themselves—they worry about what'll happen to the others, so they tell you horrible, horrible things about the outside world to make sure you stay inside."

Now everyone was listening, staring at D.C. as he outlined the scenario.

"And let's not forget that you've been away from civilization for so long you've forgotten exactly how to act around other people. You act based on how you see people from the outside world, but there's always an inkling of doubt in the back of your head—that you're misguided and mislead and you actually don't know anything.

"What would you do if you're suddenly offered a chance to go out into this strange, wonderful, terrifying world you've only dreamed of?"

His voice petered off into a whisper.

"The ones who were brave…but wanted to protect their siblings…they would want to go outside, but they wouldn't, to protect the family they've lived with for their entire lives—the family they've trusted, loved, and cried with. The ones who were scared…who'd seen the world and knew what awaited them…they'd want to stay inside, because they didn't want to get hurt. And the brave ones would want to come out, whether their siblings get in trouble or not, because they want their family to have a better life. But then the older ones, who had known what it was like to feel the grass under their feet and sleep under the open stars…the ones who'd felt war, and pain, and the real world…they would just feel tired, because they miss what they had _so much, _but they don't know if their siblings could handle it.

"Would you be able to decide then?"

Then his eyes shut, and he refused to speak another word.

* * *

"New York, please." Penny begged, watching him with sad green eyes. "Please! You know what it's like out there. We need to protect them!"

New York turned away from her, while Virginia watched the both of them, frowning slightly.

Delaware, Georgia, Massachusetts and Maryland slowly walked up to him; they were, after all, the older siblings. In the end, when everyone else was fighting, they needed to make decisions by themselves.

"'Ginia…" Georgia whispered, and tugged on her brother's cuff. "What're we going to do?"

Virginia glanced at his brothers and sister, and sighed, looking down. "We should be allowed outside. Dad's right—we've been hiding for much too long. It's understandable that we're scared, but this is the way it should be."

They all nodded, while Maryland absentmindedly rubbed his old battle injury, as he usually did when faced with stress.

"But how?" Massachusetts asked, biting his lip. "I don't think they even remember what they're fighting _about." _

"Just another excuse to fight." Maryland said, a disgusted look stretching across his already scarred face.

Delaware, who'd been hovering thoughtfully, finally spoke up. "So we tell them the truth. We don't sugarcoat it; we don't make it sound more terrible than it is."

He got a long, surprised look from his siblings, obviously a little shocked he'd spoken up.

"So how do we get their attention…?" Massachusetts voice died off when he spotted a whistle lying conveniently on the table next to him.

Deciding to let mysteries lie, he strode over, picked it up, placed it in his mouth, and blew.

One thing that Massachusetts did not know was that England loved collecting rare antiques, and would not just leave any old whistle on display. So when he blew, he practically shattered everyone's ear drums. People in the houses next to them swore they could hear a high-pitched noise emanating from the house next to theirs (actually, they'd been hearing strange noises coming from that house for most of the night, but that was beside the point).

The fighting states in the house all stopped and pressed their hands to their ears, trying to block out the high-pitched _shrieking. _

Massachusetts dropped the whistle with a yelp, and backed away from it with wide eyes.

After Maryland pried his fingers away from his ears, he let out a loud snort, and shook his head to try and get rid of the ringing. "Well _that _got their attention."

Seconds later, Pennsylvania appeared in the room, followed close behind by New York, Alaska, and the rest of the states. They were followed by D.C. and the countries, who'd been shocked out of their minds when the whistle sounded.

Spotting her fellow siblings, Pennsylvania's face clouded with anger. "What's the big idea?" She hissed. "I would've expected better of the _older states!"_

Surprisingly it was _Delaware _who gave her a lofty glare, and responded coldly: "I would've expected better of you, too."

Ignoring Pennsylvania's confused stare, Massachusetts and Maryland lifted Virginia above the crowd; the boy gave them all a hard look, before starting.

"First of all, this is pointless fighting. I don't know why it's impossible for you to decide _anything _without starting some sort of battle." Virginia glanced pointedly at Pennsylvania, who had the decency to look ashamed. "I would've thought better of you—or at least I would've thought better of the older states."

Delaware, Massachusetts, and Maryland all nodded in agreement as the other states shuffled and shifted uncomfortably.

"Now, I'm going to tell you all something, something very important. It has to do with the decision regarding our freedom.

"I know most if not all of you are scared; even the ones who pretend to be strong, I know you're scared to come out. I'm scared too. I don't know what to say to make you all feel better about this, I'm not a counselor. But what I do know is that _this is what we want. _This is something we've been dreaming of for so long…and now you want to dash our hopes and dreams because of _fear? _I, for one, won't stand for it! What did Franklin D. Roosevelt say? He said this: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself! Take the chance, because we likely won't get another one!"

Pennsylvania looked at her determined siblings, and at the faces of the rest of the states. From the resolute faces, to the unsure faces, to the faces filled with terror.

She glanced at New York, and opened her mouth to reply.

**Cliffy, anyone? **

**I like this chapter, but yet again there's angst. It's like an addiction, angst. **

**If you've read 'Omake 2' you'll know that Maryland's 'battle injury' was one he got in the revolutionary war. He got caught in an explosion. **

**Only two or three more chapters this time, for certain! **

**I'd like to say thank you to all of you who've stuck with me…I really, really appreciate it. By the way, please check out my other story—One-Shot Heaven! **

**IceEckos12**


	25. Chapter 23

**My God…it seems like such a long time since I began this story, and there's only one more chapter left! TT _TT **

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH, okay? **

"You did talk to China, right?"

D.C. gave Penny a long glare, blue eyes glinting angrily on his tanned face. "Of course I did, _mom! _Quit nagging!"

Pennsylvania rolled her eyes, deciding to deal with her prickly little brother later—after all, she _did _have a drinking party to plan!

"England!" She called, looking around for the suddenly elusive country. It was almost like he was avoiding her—but of course he wasn't. "ENGLAND!"

Montana gave his sister a sideways glance as he began boarding up the windows, getting the feeling she was overworking herself. He knew that this whole drinking thing was a big deal; he doubted that England's house would be unscathed by the end of it. In fact, now that he thought about it, it would be a very good idea for England to leave all his precious valuables in a safe in Switzerland.

But Pennsylvania was just making too big a deal of it; it was as though the apocalypse was approaching and they were having one last drinking party before they all died!

"When this is all over, we're going to eat potatoes."

Montana blinked in surprise and looked warily at his younger brother. Idaho's new personality creeped him out; after all, his hollow politeness hadn't been creepy, it had always been cute, and kind. Now this Idaho was just…completely and utterly insane.

"Are we?" He replied quietly.

"Yeah." Idaho scratched his ear, signature potato firmly clasped in one hand. "We can share with the others, I guess."

Montana sighed and nodded. "I guess so."

There was a long, awkward silence, before Idaho spoke up bluntly: "You're worried about her."

There was no need to say who.

"Yeah. Aren't you…?" He trailed off when he realized that this Idaho might be different; might be uncaring, might not worry about his own family members…

Idaho gave a disgusted snort, probably picking up on Montana's thoughts. "Duh, but it's _Penny._ That's what she _does._ You know, make a big deal about little things."

Montana's mouth parted slightly in surprise, before he blushed, realizing of _course _his little brother cared, how could he have been so stupid? It was just…this Idaho threw him off. One moment he would be sitting around acting a broody and thoughtful, the next he would be ordering the others around, and then he'd be spouting off a bunch of really smart things. All _very _confusing.

"Yeah, of course."

Speaking of Pennsylvania…

"There you are, England! I've been looking all over for you!"

England flinched when he realized he'd finally been caught. The entire day he'd been running around trying to _avoid _the girl, and had been doing a pretty good job of it; he'd never met a more annoying person! Even America didn't rival her! America was very annoying, but at least he let you have your own opinions. With Pennsylvania, if one thing was not what she said it was the most terrible thing to ever have walked this earth and _you were a devil and needed to be cleansed in fire! _

Well, that was exaggerating a bit, but…

"What types of alcohol do you have? I know this might be asking a lot, but I don't want any shit being fed to us. Have any fine vodka? That's high in alcohol. What about some nice scotch?"

England back away from her, a panicked look settling on his face, and caught the eye of the nearest state (California) and sent him a pleading look. "Well…I have beer from when I still brewed some…"

Pennsylvania made a choking noise in the back of her throat, and instantly paled. "_None your food. _Please, England, don't make us…"

He frowned—his cooking wasn't _that _terrible…well, okay, making the meat monster was pretty bad, but that was only the second time it'd happened!

"Pennsylvania." She turned to see California, hands in his pockets, walk up to her. "You need to calm down." He said calmly, before reaching up and tugging on her cowlick.

The effect was instantaneous.

Her eyes suddenly softened, taking on a kinder feel; she visibly relaxed, as though all her worries were slipping out of her shoes and into the earth. Her frown suddenly turned in on itself, creating a bright, untroubled smile. Then, she said very quietly and thoughtfully, "I must go spend time with my family." Before catching California in a hug and walking away.

England's mouth dropped. "What did you _do _to her?"

"Amish Penny." California drawled, scratching the side of his shaggy blond head. "It lasts half an hour or so. Should be done by then."

"I thought the Amish were more…I don't know…strict?"

"Well, yeah, but Amish Penny just likes to spend time with the family—she doesn't really worry about anything else."

England gave the state a sideways glance; he seemed awfully relaxed. Now that he thought about it, California had mostly just lounged in a corner, looking cool and calm, not really mixing with his more rambunctious siblings. Maybe he could safely talk to this one?

"Why are you so averse to my cooking?" He couldn't help but ask.

California blanched, and began to shiver. England almost withdrew his question, when the state spoke.

"A long time ago…" He began, still shivering. "Dad invited you to Thanksgiving."

England remembered that. America had gotten food-poisoning—probably because of the mashed potatoes he'd had, covered in fatty sour cream and green onions.

"He took one bite of your horrible scone, and nearly died, it was so terrible. That was not the end of it! Somehow, your terrible scones were affecting us as well! Oh, the horror, the horror!"

By the end of the tirade, California was a quivering heap on the floor.

"I'm sorry I asked!" England growled, highly offended; sure, the mystery food monster was bad, but really…?

"Oi, oi, oi!" England turned around to face whoever had spoken. It was a nondescript state, one he'd never really met before. Trailing behind the cheerful state was a gloomy, emo-looking boy with only one eye [1]. _Who…? _Then, he realized these could only be Oregon and Washington.

Oregon's grin widened marginally. "Hey, Iggy!"

…_There was the strongest feeling of de ja vu._

"Hello, Oregon." England replied kindly; he could not help but see his ex-colony in this state. "What can I do for you two?"

Washington shot him a withering glare. England nearly took a careful step back.

"Washington, be _polite._" Oregon said cheerful, poking his brother in the shoulder. "Sorry, Pa. Washington's having a bad rainstorm, so he's _kinda _grumpy."

"Is he…" England stared at Washington wearily. "Always like this?"

A loud laugh burst from Oregon's lips. "Not always. Sometimes he'll even smile!" He turned to Washington and poked him in the shoulder. "Right, Washington? Huh, huh?"

Washington just snarled.

"So anyway, the others sent me'n Washington to tell you that everything's ready." Oregon nodded, still grinning.

"What? But wasn't Penny…"

"We let her think what she likes." Shrugging his shoulders minutely, Oregon turned slightly, allowing England to pass him. "We let her help until she starts getting on everyone's nerves, and then we turn her into Amish Penny and she just kind of goes around hugging everyone."

England nodded at the wisdom in this and walked down the hall—only to encounter the sound of yelling, which sounded suspiciously like Virginia and Pennsylvania. As he got closer, the nonsensical shouts became understandable words.

"My _siblings _are not _drinking _on your _life!" _

"Penny, calm down, we—"

"Never! NO!"

Oregon blinked and rubbed his eyes, confused. "I thought she agreed?"

"Remember?" They jumped in surprise when California came up behind them. "The Amish hate drinking."

Oregon swore. "Dammit, California, what'd you do that for?"

California just shrugged, indifferent. "It was funny."

Okay, so maybe he wasn't as normal as England thought he was.

"Someone knock her out! _Now! _Before she _kills _someone!" It was Alabama who spoke out, hiding behind Georgia, looking positively terrified. The boy's tanned skin was paling under his oversized football jersey, giving him a pallid look. "I want to live till the next football season!"

"Yeah, yeah." New York grumbled, "Football freak. Hey, Penny!" The last sentence came out as a shout, and the girl twisted around to look at him.

"Surely _you _didn't agree to this, brother." Penny flounced over to him. "Talk _sense _into them, New York!"

"Yes, I did agree to this Penny, and—shit!" New York stumbled back when Penny took a swing at his face. "Get the hell away from me!"

"Language!" She shrieked, and suddenly a ruler appeared in her hand, from _god knows where, _and she slapped New York over the head with it.

"Ow—shit!" _Whack! _"Christ, Penny—" _Whack! _"Stop, dammit—" _Whack! _New York raised his hands in front of his face, still swearing. "Crazy bitch—" _Whack! _"Fucking hell, stop!" And with that, Pennsylvania broke the ruler over his head, and withdrew a switch. New York paled, and ran as quickly as he could. [2]

* * *

Five minutes later… 

New York was sitting seiza, pouting, vibrant red streaks marring his face; a now normal Pennsylvania was sitting next to him, looking extremely guilty.

"New York—" She began, but was promptly cut off.

"I don't want to hear it." He growled.

"Please—"

"Shut up."

She shut up.

"Right then." England cleared his throat awkwardly, since it looked like the states weren't going to take the reins. "How are we going to do this…?"

"It doesn't take that much to get us drunk," Montana began; England looked at him gratefully. "So maybe a glass or two will be enough…I think."

"But it took so much to get America drunk!" England protested, confused.

"Well, _duh. _He's got the resistance of all of us combined—while one of us doesn't have much resistance, it can _really _add up." Montana nodded, as though confirming the statement inside of his head. "None of us has had a proper drink in a _long _time—actually, the majority of us haven't had a drink at all—so as you can imagine, our alcohol tolerance is terrible."

England nodded in understanding.

"Except for California, but he's a freak of nature, so…" England jumped when he heard the state; it wasn't one he knew—he only really _talked _to a few of them. Now that he thought about it, some of the states actually seemed a bit weary of him.

Ah, well. You can't win them all.

At England's confused look, the state who had spoken—Nevada—stared at him as though it was common knowledge, and England was a bit stupid. "California makes wine for a living."

"Of course," He replied faintly. "How could I have forgotten?" Why did they expect him to know everything?

The little state misinterpreted his silence. "Don't worry; it's hard to keep track of us all. You get used to it."

England was about to respond, when he was cut off by Virginia. "Alright, everyone, pay attention!"

The states' hushed conversations died into silence.

"This is how things are going to work. Grab a buddy."

Grabbing a buddy, of course, took almost half an hour, meaning groping, screaming, shrieking, and small riots breaking out every once and a while. In the end, though, the states were all holding onto their buddies (ironically enough, the North and the South had to be stuck together).

"Right then." Virginia coughed, trying to loosen Delaware's tight grip—his little brother was quite strong for being so little. "Since there are twenty-seven groups, there will be twenty-seven bottles of alcohol. And it's first come, first serve, so don't blame me if you get the shitty alcohol." (**A/N I don't know if you caught this, but the reason there are 27 groups is because of N/S and D.C.)**

Penny made a small noise in the back of her throat, as though she wanted to protest at Virginia for swearing, but decided better of it.

"You will then proceed to drink half the bottle, which should be more than enough. Questions?"

There was a general murmur of assent, before the group quieted down again.

"Great. Drink!"

No one seemed willing to talk the first gulp, though.

No one needed to ask why they hesitated.

It was, surprisingly enough, Illinois who took the first step. "I refuse to live in fear like this!" She growled, and as the others watched her with wide eyes, she threw back a gulp.

It was like a floodgate had been opened; the other states all tipped back their beverages, and then let their partners at it; at first, the effects of the alcohol were unnoticeable, but then it became more obvious. Some of the states began slurring their words; others began staggering around the room, lost in their alcohol induced hallucinations. It proved to be a wise idea to board up the windows and hide the important, expensive items; several states began throwing things.

England was stunned at how little it took to get them absolutely hammered. Even _Pennsylvania _was affected; she was standing on his table, lifting her skirts and dancing a rude imitation of the cancan.

New York skipped over to him, singing _Dancing through Life _in a beautiful tenor voice. To England's surprise, he was wearing what appeared to be Enjolras's costume from _Les Miserables._

"Did I ever tell you, Grandpappy," The state leered at him and leaned in, leaving all _thought _of personal space nonexistent. "That I luuuuuurve you? You're the best Grandpappy a Grandsonny could ever have. I'm serious as shit, man. Don't you love me too?"

England recoiled. Dammit, he just wished it would _end. _This was _pandemonium. _

The other countries, who'd been making themselves scarce, now amused themselves with speaking to the states; Florida was sobbing into Spain's arms, apologizing for _ever _leaving him, Alaska just looked scary as shit—her and her father were making a rather frightening picture; Texas was holding Mexico above his head as though she were a prize, and the other two of the BFT (Bad Friends Trio, namely France and Prussia) were cowering in the corner, looking utterly terrified. His eyes began to search the room, trying to gauge how much it would cost to fix the damage done to his poor house.

That's when he noticed D.C., sitting on the floor, nursing his drink.

The little capital was staring at the floor, blinking languidly, as though watching something that wasn't there. His cheeks were bright red, and he was swaying slightly, but…he was completely silent, and almost…contemplative.

Time seemed to freeze when D.C.'s vibrant yet hazy blue eyes came in contact with his own.

England's breath caught in his throat when D.C. smiled softly, as though an enormous weight had been taken off his shoulders. Then, the little capital spoke, and though there was so much noise in the room, England could hear him perfectly.

"_Thank you." _

Then, D.C., still smiling widely, slowly and silently fell to the ground.

**[1] Mt. St. Helens was a massive volcano in Washington that exploded not too long ago, and I decided to make it into his eye. **

**[2] If you can figure out which movie this comes from, I'll love you forever. Here's a hint: **_**"We're on a mission from God." **_

**Holy shit. **

**Holy **_**shit, **_**I'm going to cry. Second to last chapter, baby. 81 reviews—I'm pushing for one hundred. Can you do that for me? Please? I don't care if it's nonsensical jargon, but by the end of this story I want the review thingy-ma-bob to read one hundred. Please? It's just nineteen reviews. **

**This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I'm really, **_**really **_**proud of it. And of all my readers, for keeping me going. **

**I love you all. **

**Crap, I'm getting sentimental. **

**Cheers! **

**IceEckos12 **


	26. Chapter 24

**I have no words for how amazed and thankful I am to all of you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, so sue me. XD **

America gasped in shock when the screen began flickering.

Alfred sighed, resigned.

They both knew what was happening.

Alfred looked at America; America looked back at him, and the screen plunged into darkness.

At that very moment, a large metal door appeared in the wall beside America's doppelganger.

"Gyah!" Alfred scrambled back from the door, shocked by its sudden appearance. America instantly appeared at his side, eyes fixed on the strange phenomenon. Both of them acted like cavemen seeing fire for the first time: shocked, a little scared, and somewhat reverent of the mysterious door.

The door was plain; it consisted of a rusted iron sheet. In fact, it would've been almost boring except for the fact that there was _no doorknob. _

"That's not creepy at all…" America muttered. Alfred nodded vigorously.

"I'm gonna touch it."

They were both surprised at America's words—there was something quite mysterious and more than a little malevolent about that door. It should have been enough to keep them both away…

Alfred reached out to stop America. "Don't! You don't know what'll happen!"

"I'm just going to reach out and touch it! What's the worst that could happen?"

God, what a cliché. Both of them knew what generally happened when THAT phrase came up… America's eyes widened in horror. Alfred stared at him in dismay.

"Shiiiiiiiiiit…" They said simultaneously, slightly backing away from the door.

"I jinxed it…Now something REALLY bad's gonna happen…" America whimpered.

Alfred threw up his hands. "Nice job, idiot!"

"I am NOT an idiot! You're the idiot for not stopping me!"

Of course, this led to several more childish insults being traded back and forth, each trying to pin the blame on the other for the jinx.

Just when the argument was REALLY heating up, there was an ominous creak.

Both blonds froze, blood draining from their faces.

"Don't tell me it…" Alfred trailed off.

"It opened." America gasped out, glancing at the door from the corner of his eye.

Their heads very, _very _slowly turned towards the door. Their entire bodies were tensed, as if waiting for an attack.

Alfred saw an infinite blackness; there was nothing in the room beyond besides oblivion. He breathed out a sigh of relief, and turned back to comment on being afraid of nothing—only to stop when he saw America's face.

He stared through that door with an expression of wonder on his face, his eyes shining with something that Alfred could not name. It seemed as though all the stress had drained from America's body, leaving him relaxed and peaceful, something he had not been since he had gotten drunk.

Alfred sagged, and slowly looked down. "Oi, America."

America was broken from his trance, and shook his blonde head, turning to look at Alfred, brow creasing with confusion. "Isn't it beautiful, Al?"

Alfred just nodded.

America tore his eyes from Alfred, and stared at whatever was in that room again. He took one step forward, then two—and only stopped when he realized that Alfred wasn't following.

"Al?"

Alfred smiled sadly, and looked down. "America…do me a favor."

America seemed to realize that this was goodbye. His bottom lip trembled. "Anything."

"Say hi to the kids for me, okay?"

Alfred looked up, a wide, cheesy grin on his face. It was slightly ruined by the tears staining his cheeks.

America closed his eyes, feeling tears well up in his eyes, and bit his lip. He could only nod.

Then he turned around and stepped through the door.

When America turned around, the last thing he saw was Alfred, still grinning widely, and the screen room, which was rapidly disintegrating behind him.

* * *

_One month later_

When England walked into the meeting room that day, the first thing he did was look around for America.

A month ago, England had nearly had a heart-attack when his former colony had appeared in the room. For some reason the country was crying and looked infinitely sad, but had instantly brightened when he saw all his drunk kids roaming the house. After sharing a bewilderingly tearful reunion with his children—leaving the other countries feeling a bit like third-wheels—America had apologized for nearly destroying England's home, gathered up his kids, and left, promising to be back in time for the meeting. In America's words, they'd needed to 'sort a few things out'.

The other countries had trickled out afterwards, having lost the reasons to stay any longer, leaving England in a suddenly lonely, empty house. He'd have to get them to visit every once and a while—he hadn't had that much excitement in a long time.

To England's surprise, when he finally found America, the Yank wasn't doing something stupid as he normally would have been—he was sitting in his chair, beaming like a loon. On his lap, sleeping soundly, was D.C.

"America!" England greeted him, smiling softly.

"Sh!" America hissed instantly, even though England hadn't even been that loud. "Jet lag. Don't wake him up!"

Ah. It seemed that America was developing a 'mother hen' complex.

"Sorry." England whispered back, lips curling in amusement. "I trust the plane ride went well?"

"There was a bit of turbulence—Rhode scared the shit out of the flight attendant because she was screaming so much. It was their first time on an airplane, you know." America smiled fondly and let out a soft, controlled laugh, a far cry from his usual hysterical howls.

England broke out into a cold sweat. "How many states did you bring…?"

"Rhode, D.C., New York, Penny, Delaware." America listed off easily, smile widening at the thought of his kids. "I didn't want to bring too many. The food we need wouldn't fit on the plane!"

England let out a long sigh of relief, and glanced around the meeting room. It was only a G8 meeting, so the room wasn't that full, but it STILL should have been louder and busier. England could tell everyone was keeping one curious eye on America and the strange child in his arms-especially China. The elder Asian seemed to be talking to Russia, but every few seconds he would look over at America.

England wondered how long it would be until he reminded America that non-countries weren't supposed to come to meetings.

As it turned out, it was only a short while- a few seconds later, China (politely) ended the conversation with Russia and strode over to America with a determined expression on his face.

"America!" China called, narrowing his eyes and pushing his ponytail over one shoulder. "You better have an explanation, aru!"

England flinched, though America seemed unperturbed by China's attitude. It seemed he was used to being yelled at by China—what with owing the country a ginormous amount of money and all…

"Geez, chill, China! Of course I have an explanation! And be quiet. He's still recovering from jetlag."

"He…?" China quieted himself when he noticed D.C. slumbering peacefully. "Is that Diece, aru?" he asked in a softer voice. He might not like America, but he held no grudge against the small child.

"D.C." America corrected him, causing China to stare in shock. "And yeah, this is him. Isn't he so cute?" he cooed. China's mouth dropped open.

Minutes later, China had still not said a thing. He just continued to stare at America, which was obviously creeping the younger country out.

England leaned toward America slightly. "I think you broke him."

China glared indignantly, mouth creasing into a thin, straight line. England backed away, twitching.

"Calm down, China, I'll explain everything—"

America was cut off by the doors being thrown open, hitting the walls with a loud clang.

"Dude, Dad!" New York shouted, entering the room, the other states close behind him. The other countries did not bother to hide their shock. "I can't believe it! There's a Starbucks down the street! Can we get ourselves some joe?"

D.C. stirred slightly. America clamped his hands around the capital's ears. "Sh!" He hissed.

New York stopped short, eyebrow twitching. "Geez, sorry!" He whisper-shouted. "So can we?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Be careful though."

The state gave the other countries the evil eye before heading out the door. The other states looked back at the still staring countries apologetically before following New York out.

After the door slammed shut behind them, the countries' stares turned from the brown door to America's grinning, sheepish face.

He laughed. "I suppose you want an explanation for that…"

"See, there's something I've been keeping from you guys for a while now…"

**And…cut!**

**In case any of you forgot, Alfred is the 'entertainment' the Supply Room created because America was bored. **

**My God…it ends almost a year after it started. I am…I am so, so thankful that all of you stuck with me for so long. I would never have been able to write **_**anything **_**without all of you here. So now, it's time to write down all the people who favorited/subscribed this story: **

**1funkeymaster51, .E.'s Sonata, akuoni, allavengedromance, Animateia, AnimeM22, arekisandora07, Avitala, BankaiKitty, bdsoccerKesesese, bleach-otaku, blurry19, Broena, ButterflyFlutterCry, cake-error, Can'tCookScones, Cheralla, Cmpteraddict, Daisuke Kazamatsuri, Darkstrawberry-chan, Dionnysia, Don't ask it wont make sense, Eclipsemoon82, Elliona1, emismpunk, Eng-chan, experiment13, EYEIZAWEZUM, FiveLeggedTango, FlyingSolo365, FoxChimera, Glowstick145, Gold-Eyed-Fox, hans-the-hero, Hiezen Uchiha, IMAxENIGMAx, iTorchic, JAGartist, Kami-SamanoShukusen, KensOnFire, kura-wolfgoddess, MagicWhiz45, Melody-chii, Mimmy700, Mossmoon, Nerdygal-lol, ocean13, OMGitsgreen, Onnoff, PharaohsDarkness, PotatoJerk, Random Google, RandomRebelGirl, Rue-the-Marauder, Secret-H, Shady-Ken, Smashrandom, smrtangel, Sora Moto, storminateacup7, Sylpheri, takuya, Tegan, TenajHguoh, TheGirlWithSilverEyes, TheSelfCriticalAuthor, thychi, toshiro321, , Vincent Sansa Halestrom, WitchJuliana, xAnnabethJeanCullenx, xMaddie, xxAllTheWorldsAStagexx, yami'sguardian, and Zanalia. **

**Special thanks to ShatteredRose, Perfect1Up, Stormcloudishone, forevergamergirl and yaoiforever666. These five people were the first to favorite my story. Also special thanks to Mimmy700, PharaohsDarkness, yami'sguardian, Sora Moto, akuoni, and PotatoJerk, who were the first to subscribe to my story. **

**Thanks to** **forevergamergirl and** **yaoiforever666, who were the very first two to review. You guys made me continue—I'm pretty sure otherwise I would've quit at the beginning.**

**I really appreciate those who reviewed. I read every single one of them, and go over them frequently. You guys all kept me going—I'm sure I'll have 100 at the end. **

**Ocean13 created some art for me:**

**h t t p : / oceanblue971 .deviantart .com /art /Russia-and-Alaska-268848166**

**I'll also be posting the link on my account. It's really cool. **

**And last, thanks to JynniaFlyer, who edited some of my chapters.**

**So now you all must be wondering: Now what? **

**I'm going to go on a very short hiatus. I might or might not come out with a sequel, but I will post the announcement on the story if I do. **

**Meanwhile, I'll be putting my energy into a new project: the Kidnapped trilogy. It's going to be **_**epic **_**length. Here's the summary:**

**Book 1: America gets a new president, who is actually a psychopath. This president, interested in America's immortality and super-strength, kidnaps him and experiments on him, trying to create a super soldier. Meanwhile, an anti-government group has taken control of Russia, and is rapidly taking over the world. **

**Book 2: America has been found, but the war isn't over. The world is slowly but steadily falling; it won't be long until all the countries are dead. America tries to recover from his traumatizing ordeal in the middle of WW3. **

**Book 3: Super surprise. This book is a major twist, so I'm not saying **_**anything. **_

**I'll be typing the first book before I post it, so I won't have to make people wait for updates. I'll also be focusing on a short D. Gray Man story (I love D. Gray Man so much!), so…don't expect it for a while. **

**And now, the author takes a bow, and disappears. **

**IceEckos12 **

**P.S. I couldn't help it: **

After the meeting, the first thing America had said was, "I need a drink."

England was only to happy to comply.

Ten minutes later, America was sitting in the corner, moaning and crying, nursing a drink.

England was laughing his ass off.


	27. Would you rather

Hey, it's your wonderful author.

So you may be wondering, 'Hey Ice, whatcha doing? This story ended a while ago." Well, yeah, it did end. I even talked about a sequel.

However, before I even think of outlining the sequel, I need to finish up my giant project which is almost finished, actually, which is making me happy because I've been writing it for approximately two years. But that's not the point. The point was...instead of a sequel, would you guys like a reboot of the first book?

Looking back on this story, I can see SO many mistakes in this. I'm amazed I got so many reviews (kind people :] ). I've been thinking of a revamp for a while, ever since I reread this. If I did one, I'd completely revise the plotline, fix some writing errors, and make it a better story overall.

So yeah. Would you guys rather have a revamp or a sequel? (Both of which probably won't be done for a while because of my massive project.)

IceEckos12


	28. Chapter 28

Hey guys, guess who! Me again. Just wanted to let you all know that the reboot won. Thanks to everyone who voted!


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